


A Deeper Shade of Blue.

by risky_business



Series: 10AM, Wednesday Morning. [2]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage, M/M, Past Underage, Recreational Drug Use, References to Homophobia, Teaching, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 129,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risky_business/pseuds/risky_business
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. People go to Las Vegas to get lucky and win big, but Jon Walker's been on a losing streak since the beginning of the year.  He thought a new job and a fresh start in Nevada would solve all his problems - the disgraced loss of his job, his break-up with Patrick and, more importantly, his confused feelings for best friend Joe, but they all seem to have bitten back with a vengeance since he moved to the desert; and juggling the life he left behind in Chicago with the one he's trying to build in Sin City is proving no easy task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Spencer Smith was the most boring man Jon had ever met and it was unfortunate because on his first day at the new school in Las Vegas, he was the first teacher he’d met, and Spencer - who could talk for the whole state of Nevada – seemed completely unaware of how strained their interactions often were. 

“I mean, my fiancée wants to go to the Caribbean, get married over there – it’s okay for her family, they’re all rich. My parents couldn’t afford to fly out to the Caribbean, plus I don’t have a passport, _and_ my dad’s scared of flying. My mom and dad said we should just go to one of the chapels here in Vegas, spend the money more wisely on a honeymoon or a house or whatever, because weddings are just so expensive now, but you know women, right? They always get what they want in the end.” 

Jon hummed in agreement. It was Wednesday lunchtime and only his third day as head of sciences at the seriously underfunded school in Las Vegas, but already he knew all about Spencer’s impending wedding, his overzealous fiancée Haley, their cats, her interfering parents and his, who’d made the mistake of agreeing to pay for half their wedding before fully realizing what a huge affair it was being turned into. 

That was all Spencer ever talked about – that and his classes, naming off all the kids as if Jon should know who they were by now; and he gave Jon a headache. 

“I _do_ love her, and we’ve been together since we were sixteen, so she’s my childhood sweetheart, you know, but _man_ ,” he sighed, sticking a plastic fork into a plate of fries. “This wedding is so stressful, I’ll be glad when it’s over. Are you married?” 

“No,” Jon replied, his fingers itching for a cigarette, his eyes glancing at the clock on the wall – another twenty minutes until lunch was over and another twenty minutes listening to Mr. Smith, the biology teacher, bleating on and on about his wedding plans. 

Spencer asked few questions about Jon’s personal life and during their first meeting had only asked where he was from before launching into a rundown of each and every teacher at the school. Jon was yet to meet most of them and had only been formally introduced to his new science crew, who were all just as boring as Spencer, but also way less interested in making conversation with him. His presence as head of sciences had rubbed a lot of the older staff up the wrong way – they were pissed that someone so much younger than they were was now further up the hierarchy, with more responsibility and more pay, with such little experience. 

“Haley bought me an engagement ring,” he told Jon, holding up his left hand and wiggling his fingers. “I think she thinks some of the female pupils, you know – flirt with me – they don’t, but…” he trailed off, lowering his hand back down onto the table, his awkward smile fading slowly. “You’ve not met Brendon yet have you? Brendon Urie, he’s the dramatic arts teacher – also the music teacher – all the girls have got the hots for him.” Spencer looked around the quiet staff area. “He barely hangs out in here though. He’s my roommate – until I get married that is – my parents’ house is too small and Haley’s mom and dad won’t let us sleep in the same room together at their place until we’re married.” 

“That sucks,” Jon commented banally. 

“Yeah, there’s three of us, we all live together, Brendon, myself and Ryan. Ryan’s been my best friend since we were about four or five and Brendon just got a job here, like, two years ago or something. Ryan teaches English – I think he ended up as a teacher by accident though, he’s super deadpan about most things – sometime he comes across as a bit of a dick,” Spencer lowered his voice at the insult, and then continued, “but that’s just the way he is. He’s the best man at my wedding – Haley’s got like, six bridesmaids. I’ve only got Ryan – which means he’ll be organizing my bachelor party and I don’t think Haley’s too pleased about that, because this one time, back when we were like, oh I don’t know, twenty two… Ryan posted this picture online by accident of him doing cocaine and Haley hates drugs – I do too, but – Ryan almost lost his job. I think Haley thinks that if Ryan organizes the bachelor party there’ll be drugs there or strippers or something and I told him, I said–” 

Jon tuned out, feeling his cellphone buzz in his pocket. This Ryan seemed like an interesting character, he thought, waiting for the opportune lull in conversation which would allow him to reach for his cellphone and read the message that he knew would definitely be from Joe, without appearing rude. 

“You should come though. Yeah! That’d be cool. I don’t know how many people Ryan’s rounding up for the bachelor party, but you should come too. It’ll probably just be a meal somewhere nice. I hate the Strip. I won’t go down there, but you’re invited – only if you want to; it’s not going to be anything crazy,” Spencer laughed – too loud. “It probably won’t be for another few months, but I’ll let you know, introduce you to Ryan – and Brendon too, they’re cool. We’ll all get along.” 

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Jon commented, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out his cellphone. “Keep me posted, man,” he said – despite himself, just to be friendly because fucking hell, if he heard one more complaint about Spencer’s wedding’s color scheme, or about how much the catering was costing, he was going to stick his fingers in his ears and tell him that he didn’t care – he really couldn’t care less – more fool him for getting married, the sentimental idiot. “I’m just going to uh –” he waved his finger towards the door of the staff room absently, “run for a smoke before next class starts. I’ll catch you later, Spence, alright?” 

Jon pushed his chair back on the carpet, clutching his phone in his hand, desperate to read the message that had just beeped through. He stood there for another few minutes, glancing up at the clock as the time ticked by closer and closer to the start of his next class and Spencer, relentlessly chewed his ear that he’d just tell Ryan about this later tonight, it shouldn’t be a problem. Jon nodded and then sighed, pulling his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and flicking his lighter agitatedly. 

 _Just shut the fuck up,_ his mind cursed. _Stop talking, oh my god._

Eventually, there was pause enough in Spencer Smith’s conversation so that Jon could dash out the door, ten minutes to spare until he had to teach some ninth graders the difference between veins and arteries and fuck, he hadn’t smoked since before his first class of the morning. He rushed to his car, closed the door, lit up his cigarette and opened the text, his nerves immediately settling. 

 _I think I left a t shirt there. That Joy Division one. Can you look around for it? Thanks xx_

Joe _had_ left his Joy Division t-shirt, tangled up in the covers of Jon’s bed. Jon had found it after returning to his apartment after dropping Joe off at the airport on Sunday and had at first thrown it in the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room which were waiting to get washed, but at bedtime had rooted around in the dark for it, brought it to his nose and inhaled Joe’s scent. He remembered pulling that shirt off him that previous night – Joe’s body, those tattoos and his eyes, heavy from too much weed and how fucking hot he’d looked like that, laying back on the mattress, legs raised and spread and his dick hard and leaking as Jon fucked him.   

Jon shifted in the drivers seat. 

 _Yeah, I found it. You’ll have to wrestle it off me though if you want it back,_ he replied, taking another drag of his cigarette. Six minutes until class started. Joe’s message came through almost immediately. 

 _Touché, Mr. Walker. My bed is lonely without you xx_

A smile pulled at Jon’s lips and he glanced over the words for a few moments – his own bed, in his own apartment, down on F Street and Jackson, just off of North Las Vegas Boulevard was also incredibly bleak without Joe. The two nights they’d spent there together, wrapped around each other and listening to neighbors’ arguments erupting from outside were almost blissful – and now Jon was stuck with the stark reality that he was a new, conspicuous, white face from out of town and although he’d had no trouble with any of the neighbors, he wanted to keep a low profile until he’d earned enough money to move out – to a way nicer area, closer to school. 

It was during this fantasy that his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his passenger side door. The sudden noise had made him jump and drop his cigarette onto his dark pants as his head jerked towards the knock and he was greeted with a smiling, dark haired man with glasses. He pressed the switch to roll down the window and the man leaned in, still smiling and raised his hand. 

“Hi. You must be the new science teacher,” he said, offering his hand through the window. “My name’s Brendon. I’m the music and dramatic arts teacher,” he smiled as Jon took his hand over the passenger seat and shook it. 

Brendon was a stupidly attractive man, Jon thought – no wonder all the girls liked him, but fuck if he’d had enough of music teachers – his mind flew back to Patrick, to nights spent on their couch together. Jon used to tease him about his occupation, say he was hardly a real teacher – that he should learn to teach something of value; something like science and Patrick would laugh at him and pull him in for a kiss with the television playing on low in the background and how good things had been back then – before Pete had got involved, before Patrick had revealed himself to be a horrible little liar, before Joe – and fuck, Joe, Joe, _Joe_. 

“Hey, what’s up? Jon,” Jon offered, pulling his hand back and brushing his pants free of fallen ash. He glanced back at the clock on his dashboard – three minutes until class. He pulled another cigarette from the pack and offered it over to Brendon. “D’you smoke?” he asked. 

Brendon hummed, taking a quick look at his watch. “I’m trying to cut back,” he said, dark eyes shining. “One quick one before class won’t hurt though.” Without being asked, he pulled open Jon’s passenger side door and slipped inside, accepting a cigarette from the packet and put it in his mouth. 

“How are you enjoying the school?” Brendon asked; his voice was strangely deep for such a clean cut looking, young face. 

Jon lit up his cigarette. “It’s okay,” he shrugged on his exhale – there was little else he could offer on that front. He’d agreed to leave behind his hometown for a mediocre job in a city where he didn’t know anyone, where the temperature was currently over one hundred degrees – it wasn’t the best decision of his life. 

“You’ve met Spencer then?” he asked, a smile on his face as Jon rolled his eyes. “He can talk, huh?” 

“Fucking A,” Jon exclaimed. “Poor Haley, right?” 

Brendon laughed, his head falling back against the headrest of the seat, his lips pulled into an easy smile. “That’s funny. Where did you move here from?” he asked. 

“Chicago. I had a job out there for a few years – at a real good school and then, uh…” he searched his mind for anything other than the truth – that he’d been fired for that damn video, where everyone at that school had seen his lips wrapped around Patrick’s dick. “I left – needed a break, a change of scenery,” he lied. 

Brendon nodded in understanding. “You liking Las Vegas so far?” he asked, amiably. 

“Yeah,” he said – another lie. “It’s a lot warmer out here than I’m used to, but – it’s cool.” 

Brendon gave a small laugh, bringing his cigarette to his mouth again in silence. 

“Do you uh, do you smoke weed?” Brendon suddenly asked, stubbing his half finished cigarette out in the almost full ashtray. The question seemed out of the blue. Jon quirked his eyebrow and then shook his head, inhaling deep on his cigarette. 

“Why d’you ask?” 

“Your car stinks of it.” 

Jon laughed – he and Joe had smoked almost constantly throughout their road trip from Chicago and had got through way more than Jon had first expected. Joe liked to get stoned and then fuck – claiming it had always been one of his favorite substances to screw on; so that’s what they’d done – got high and fucked. 

“Maybe a little bit – every now and then,” Jon smiled, extinguishing his cigarette as the school bell sounded. Being the new teacher in school sucked – the kids all wanted to see how far they could push him, testing him to see if he was a soft touch or not – he knew the first few weeks would be the hardest and he was trying not to feel too down, but at night all he could think was that he’d made a huge mistake – that what he wanted wasn’t this job or to avoid Patrick and his new relationship, it was Joe, back in Chicago or Joe anywhere for that matter. He was still beating himself up over the fact he’d let him go at the airport without telling him how he felt. 

“Nice!” Brendon enthused. “Hey, I’ll uh, I’ll catch you later, Jon.” Brendon stepped out of the car and Jon followed his lead, the desert heat beating down on him as soon as he was out of the comfortable air conditioning, and wearing a shirt and tie in Las Vegas was incredibly uncomfortable, he wiped the sweat from his hairline. 

“Sure thing, man. I’ll see you,” he mumbled, starting towards his new classroom, quickly tapping out a late reply to Joe’s message. 

_School is stressful. Wish you were here. Need a good, hard fuck x_

* * *

 

“Let me hear you, babe. Let me hear you come.” Joe’s words rung heavy in his ear as his fist pumped his dick and it had been ages – years – since he'd engaged in phone sex with anyone, but here he was, lying flat on his mattress with his hand around his cock, masturbating for Joe on the other end of the line, pining for his words, his lips, his fingers - and his dick was rock hard with frustration. Jon moaned, but his orgasm was still a ways off yet. His eyes closed softly, his phone caught awkwardly between his ear and his shoulder as he jerked off, measuring each and every sigh Joe uttered and letting them spur him on. 

“I’m so hard. Do you miss my dick?” Joe asked, his voice quiet in his ear and _holy fuck_ did Jon miss that dick – three days it had been since Joe left and he felt his life was in tatters. Not just because he wasn’t getting two solid fucks a day; sometimes even three or four, but because he missed the heat of Joe’s body at night, the press of his lips against his right before they came. He missed Joe’s fingers laced with his, his scent, his skin. He fucking missed him so much. 

“Fuck yeah, I do. I wish you were here now, fucking me. Your dick would feel _so_ good. I’d ride you ‘til you came in my ass. Fuck,” Jon mumbled, feeling like a teenager again - hushed fantasies spoken through a cellphone. 

“Yeah… that’d be hot. Fuck man, you turn me on. My dick is so hard for you. I’d love your mouth around me, sucking me off and I would come down your tight little throat.” He made a noise that resonated from deep within his chest and blew out a sigh as Jon ran his thumb over the leaking head of his dick. “How close are you?” he huffed out a few moments later. 

Jon tightened his grip around his cock and picked up the pace. “Not far off,” he replied, twisting his palm as he stroked his erection, his thumb rubbing over the slit every couple of strokes. 

“Fuck, man,” Joe’s voice was hot and slow on the other end of the line and Jon wished he could see him, wished he could smell him and taste him and feel his fingers deep inside his asshole, pressing up against his prostate. He wanted to suck his dick down his throat, make Joe moan and curse until he shot his load into his mouth and he’d suck it all up and Joe would pull his face up to meet his and pull his head down and they’d make out like that, Joe tasting his own come on Jon’s tongue and that turned him on enough that his stomach muscles clenched and he felt himself peak. 

“I’m gonna come,” Jon’s voice sounded strange in the empty bedroom of his Las Vegas apartment, the room was bleak and lonely – no curtains at the window, the threadbare carpet conspicuously stained with what looked like blood and Jon hated it – hated Vegas and the heat, hated his new job, hated Spencer and his boring wedding plans… _Give it time_ , he kept telling himself. _You’ll get used to it after a few weeks_ , Joe had told him jovially over the phone after his first day of teaching after more than seven months of unemployment, but fuck if he didn’t miss Chicago and Joe’s voice in his ear first thing in the morning and Joe’s nails scratching down his back when they fucked and Joe’s eyes in the dark, glassy from smoking and his fingers twisting around his… 

He concentrated on the feeling inside his dick, tried to rid his mind of his dislike for everything he’d quickly grown to hate about Las Vegas and imagined, with his eyes softly closed, that Joe was laying there next to him, watching him jerk off and he tried to lean into the pillows Joe had used, his scent barely still apparent on them and he tried to imagine the warmth of his body and the touch of his hand. 

Joe grunted on the other end of the phone and Jon pictured him beating off, fisting that incredible dick of his in his hand and he squeezed his own erection as he breathed heavily into his cellphone, his orgasm washing over him and subsiding just about the same time as Joe released his, his breathing labored and shallow on the other end, finishing in a slightly despondent _Fuck,_ and Jon imagined him covered in come, wiping it off his stomach and how it would leave slick, salty streaks that he’d want to lick away if Joe was laying right next to him. 

“D’you come?” Joe asked and Jon mumbled a tired acknowledgement back at him, turning over onto his side and stroking the side of the bed that Joe always slept on. 

“I wish you were here for that,” he said, sleepily, his hand twisting under the bedcovers. His fingers brushed against a soft bundle of cotton and Jon knew, without even looking that it was Joe’s forgotten Joy Division t-shirt. He fisted the material in his hand and brought it up to his nose to inhale the smell of smoke and pot and the lingering scent of old cologne. 

“Me too.” A pause. “I miss you.” 

A smile tugged at Jon’s lips. He still hadn’t told Joe about his feelings, because from halfway across the country it seemed disingenuous, but it was still easy between them – what had gone unsaid between the two men seemed to be mutually understood. They’d not uttered the L-Word to each other, but they’d scooted around it by using a bunch of synonyms. 

“I miss you too. It’s tough not having to get up and wash the come out of my ass,” he teased and Joe laughed on the other end of the line; a laugh that caused a warmth to pool at the pit of Jon’s stomach, that made his heart pump noticeably inside his chest. 

“How romantic. Is that what passes for pillow talk these days, Jon?” 

Jon smiled, his eyes closing after his orgasm, at the sound of Joe’s voice in his ear. Jon wanted Joe’s hot breath on his lips, his sex-lazy body pressed up against his. He listened to the silence on his cellphone and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. 

“It’s gone midnight here,” Joe told him and Jon hummed – he kept forgetting about the two-hour time difference between Nevada and Illinois. “I’ve gotta get some shuteye. I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Jon yawned, relaxing into his mattress, Joe’s t-shirt gripped in his fingers. “Thanks,” he added, feeling himself falling asleep. 

“Yeah. Any time, hot stuff. Sweet dreams.” 

Jon smiled and let his phone fall away from his ear as he disconnected the call.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Friday lunchtime. 

“I mean, I don’t think I’m being unfair – I said I didn’t mind because I know how much it means to her, but we’ve got close to three hundred people invited to our wedding now and I find it difficult to stand in front of a classroom full of kids sometimes and give my lessons, but _this…”_ Spencer complained, his hand pushing through his parted hair. He sighed and then shook his head. 

“You should tell her how you feel, man. Put your foot down – it’s no fun if it’s not what you _both_ want, right?” Jon told him, scanning over the new text he’d just received from Joe. 

 _Damn, saw this online. I’m gonna do it and send it to you – what’s your address?? Hahaaha._ A little winky face followed his words. 

Jon opened the link for a sex toy website and glanced back up at Spencer’s slouched form as the page opened. The link was for a product called _Clone-A-Willy,_ some kind of silicone casting kit from the UK. Jon scanned over the page quickly and smiled. 

 _Great. I’ll use it as a coat hook,_ he typed, hitting send and looking sympathetically up at Spencer. He needed to start talking to other staff members. Listening to each and every intricate detail about Spencer’s looming wedding was driving him mad. Between discussing color schemes – Haley wanted purple and silver, Spencer would have preferred green and orange - and how many of his fiancée’s extended family wanted to come from out of town to witness their marriage, Spencer talked a lot about Brendon and the ever elusive Ryan Ross. Since he and Brendon had shared a quick cigarette in his car that day, they hadn’t seen each other and still Jon was yet to meet Ryan, the English teacher who’d almost lost his job for publishing a picture of him doing illegal drugs online. Maybe they’d have something in common, Jon had thought. After all, they both had a somewhat career-threatening piece of media out there on the Internet and, more interestingly, this Ryan was into his drugs – so they had that in common too. 

“You can’t have ever been in a long term relationship then, because you try saying no to a girl who’s planning for the best day of her life.” Spencer sighed dramatically and put his chin in his hands. His sincerity was almost funny. “I don’t think I ever asked you – do you have a girlfriend?” 

“No,” Jon answered. 

“No one back in Chicago?” he asked, but he didn’t look too interested. His eyes were downcast at the table, his fingers tracing the nicks in the wooden top. 

“Not really,” Jon shrugged. “I just got out of a long term relationship though actually,” he added, with an honesty that surprised even himself. “Six years.” 

“Haley and I have been together almost ten years this December,” Spencer added, obviously keen to turn the conversation back to himself. “Why did you break up with your ex?” 

“Umm,” Jon stalled. “Infidelity,” he said, rather than _he cheated on me. He cheated on me_ would bring up the fact that he was gay and the fact that his ex had so little respect for him that he’d cheated for two years with a man who’d got him into bed after bringing over a pizza when Jon had been out of town for little less than a week. 

“Oh,” Spencer sat up and flashed him a look that Jon couldn’t decide was sympathetic or judgmental. Not that he cared if Spencer knew he was gay or not, it wasn’t a big deal, but it was also none of his business and he’d only known the guy for five days and Spencer seemed so straight it hurt – from his hair cut, to his incredibly long term relationship with his high school sweetheart – Jon doubted Spencer had ever been with another woman – to his abhorrence of any kind of drugs; including booze and cigarettes, Spencer had told him some days ago in the staffroom. He didn’t know if Spencer was open-minded regarding same-sex relationships, and anyway – he hadn’t asked. 

“So you’re here in Las Vegas to get over your ex?” Spencer asked. “I can’t ever imagine breaking up with Haley. That’d be so _weird._ ” 

“Yeah,” Jon sighed, but he didn’t elaborate. 

“Oh, look! Brendon.” Spencer sat up in his chair and waved at the door behind Jon’s back and Jon turned to see an impeccably dressed Mr. Urie entering the staffroom, toting a book bag on his shoulder and carrying a small Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand, looking, Jon had to admit, pretty handsome. 

“I discussed it with Ryan and he claims it _was_ your turn to unload the dishwasher last night,” Spencer said as a way of greeting to his fellow teacher and roommate. Jon would make a bet that living with Spencer Smith would be like living with his mom. He hid his grin behind his mug of coffee. 

“Yeah. Hi, how are you? Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Brendon sighed, letting his bag fall to the floor. He flashed Jon a small smile. Brown eyes, perfect teeth. Jon bet Mr. Brendon Urie was incredibly popular with the female students. Probably even a few of the male ones too. “Has he bored you to death with wedding talk yet?” Brendon asked, smiling wide. Spencer’s lips turned into a small pout and Jon tried to stifle a laugh. 

“He’s seriously wounded me, but I’m hanging in there. I just wanted to hear about the color scheme just one more time before break’s over,” he teased, smiling over at Spencer. Brendon laughed, his eyes creasing up at the corners as he took a seat next to Jon and sipped his coffee. 

“That’s too funny, man!” Brendon told him, still laughing. Spencer’s eyes rolled in their sockets, but his pout turned into a guilty smile all the same.  “What’s up, man, you enjoying your first week?” Brendon’s lips still fought with a smile. Jon could smell cigarette smoke on him, over the faint scent of cologne that reminded him of Joe. 

“It’s been fun,” Jon answered, “But what I live for are these lunch breaks, where I get to hear Spencer complain about his fiancée for an hour.” 

Brendon’s head fell back and he laughed up at the ceiling quietly. 

“Hey. Oh, that’s not fair! You guys, shut _up.”_ Spencer pouted, folding his arms across his chest. “I love Haley-” 

“We know,” Brendon assured him, nodding his head as if to say _thanks for the memo, Captain Obvious._  

“I’m just teasing,” Jon remarked, hoping that Spencer at least had a sense of humor about the whole thing. He _was_ only teasing – and maybe trying to get Brendon to laugh and tell Spencer to pump the breaks on his wedding talk, because he was not a chick and he was never going to get married and he couldn’t pretend to be interested in the cost of place settings and guest favors and flowers for much longer. 

His phone buzzed on the table, Joe’s name flashing up on the screen. He snatched it up and opened the message, immediately closing it and pushing his phone into his shirt pocket as he tried to hide the rising blush on his cheeks. 

“You got some text-buddy?” Brendon asked, almost too knowingly for Jon’s liking. 

“Kind of.” Jon felt his cheeks burning as he fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes. “Fancy a smoke?” he offered Brendon and unlike last time, he didn’t pause to think about his answer. He stood up and kicked his shoulder bag under the table. 

“I’d love one. Watch my bag for me, will you Spence?” Brendon told his friend and Jon would have noticed the disappointed little look in Spencer’s eyes before they excused themselves if he hadn’t have been so preoccupied thinking about the message Joe had just sent him – his dick at full erection, his fist at the base, the smallest bit of pre-come dripping down the head. The picture had caught him totally off guard and as he stood in the shade of the staff parking lot with Brendon and smoked, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and gazed over the picture as Brendon mentioned the fact that, actually, it _had_ been Ryan’s turn to unload the dishwasher and between them they often ignored their chores because Spencer always picked up after them in the end anyway. 

“Yeah,” Jon interjected, absently, not really listening until he noticed Brendon’s neck craning over his phone, trying to take a peek at whatever had obviously grabbed his attention. Jon brought his phone quickly to his chest and Brendon laughed, shaking his head. 

“Someone back in Chicago?” Brendon asked, with creepy accuracy. Jon wondered if he’d caught sight of Joe’s dick on the screen. 

“Yeah,” he answered, taking a deep drag on his cigarette – even in the shade was too hot for his liking. He was starting to miss those mild Midwestern summers. 

“What’s her name?” he asked. Obviously he hadn’t seen the picture. 

“Joe,” Jon answered, but it didn’t work with Joe’s name. When he’d been with Patrick and people had assumed he was straight and asked about his _girlfriend,_ him mentioning the name Patrick had quickly nipped that assumption in the bud. There was no denying that Jon’s partner _Patrick_ was a dude. It had been the first time he’d used a similar tactic with Joe’s name and it obviously didn’t have the same effect, because Brendon nodded and smiled and then brought his cigarette to his lips and inhaled. 

“Is she hot?” he asked. 

“She’s a he, actually. Joe with an E. Joseph.” 

“Oh,” Brendon’s smile faded slightly, but he gathered himself up quickly and then nodded as if assessing the situation. “Okay. Cool…” Brendon dropped his half finished cigarette to the floor and stubbed it out with the toe of his pointed shoe. Jon wasn’t going to share his cigarettes with this Brendon anymore if he wasted half every time he accepted a smoke. “Huh, I’d never have guessed.” 

Jon shrugged. He’d heard that one too many times to count and he extinguished his cigarette by rubbing it on the brick wall they were leaning against. Brendon didn’t say anything else about the matter.

 

* * *

 

Jon’s first weekend in Las Vegas had been pretty lonely. Back in Chicago, he’d have been out with Joe and William and Gabe at some cool bar, maybe taking drugs, definitely drinking too much, but not here. He didn’t even know how to contact Spencer – at one particularly lonely moment on Saturday afternoon he’d started to wish he’d asked for his number. He’d have suggested they meet up for coffee, perhaps he could have met Haley and impressed her with his incredible insight on her choice of bridesmaid dresses and he and Spencer could have hung out because even listening to that guy go on about his wedding plans certainly beat sitting at home alone; no TV, not even an internet hookup yet – just his records, still in boxes scattered across the living room carpet and a bag of cleaning supplies he’d picked up from Target on the way home from school last Monday afternoon. 

The highlight of his weekend had been a drunken call from Joe in the small hours of Saturday morning. He was in a club somewhere and had shouted down the phone for five minutes until Jon had to repeat three times in a row that he couldn’t hear him, that he was hanging up, call me tomorrow, okay, bye. 

His mother had called him on Sunday, complaining that she’d not heard from him since he left Chicago the other week. She asked about his new job, if he’d met any new friends yet, if his friend Joe was still with him and if he’d heard from Patrick. He hadn’t. 

“Gosh, you two were so good together,” she said, annoyingly sincere in her opinion and Jon had rolled his eyes as he lay on his couch and smoked a joint. 

The weekend had dragged slowly by and he found himself wishing the exact opposite of what he’d always wanted when he’d been teaching back in Chicago. He was counting down the hours until Monday morning, desperate to have something to do with himself for another five days. 

Joe had called him late on Sunday morning, way more sober than he had been 24-hours prior and they ended up on the phone to each other for over an hour – Jon moaned about Spencer. Joe mentioned that Cooper was still interested in hanging out and Jon had told him that, under no circumstances, should Joe think that a good idea. He disguised his jealousy as concern for Joe’s career and then spent the rest of the evening worrying if he’d made a convincing enough argument, or if Joe saw right through his protestations that Cooper was way too young and way too much of a liability and Joe should just stay the hell away. 

On Monday the rigmarole of another school week started again and Jon had sat in his car for twenty minutes before the start of his first class with his head in his hands, trying to convince himself to just give it a few more weeks. What was he meant to do, return to Chicago with his head hung low after little over a week or just suck it up and accept it? He tried to calm his nerves by smoking, but the cigarettes did little to ease his unhappiness. Out here in Nevada, his break up with Patrick seemed all the more real. Sometimes, he’d see something in the newspaper or one of his students would say something stupid or funny and he’d have a certain desire to want to tell Patrick about it, knowing it’d make him laugh. He missed the familiarity. 

He missed Joe and that strange pang of need and desire for him was the only positive emotion he’d felt since he left last week – and even that wasn’t particularly positive. It was fucking irritating and hopeless and sad when he thought about it too closely. It was love, he guessed, or something akin to it, so go figure. 

He knew Joe would get by just fine – he was still in familiar territory back in Chicago. Jon felt like he was falling apart in a weird city full of strangers. Las Vegas was fun if you had someone to share the madness with – on your own it was incredibly lonely and a little depressing. The city was built with the sole purpose that people would be having so much fun, they wouldn’t mind losing all their money. Jon tried not to acknowledge his feelings as depression, but it was hard, when all he did was move from one air-conditioned vessel to another – from his apartment, to his car, to his classroom, to the staffroom, back to his car and finally into his apartment again at the end of the day. He smoked too much weed in the evenings. He’d woken up this morning with a dry mouth reminiscent of a hangover, but he hadn’t drunk anything all weekend. He’d just got so stoned that he’d woken up at five thirty that morning on the couch, still in his clothes from last night. 

“Hello, Mr. Walker!” Spencer’s voice sing-songed behind him happily, and behind his friendly Monday morning smile, Jon cursed him, wondering how he could be so vibrant first thing in the morning. _Oh_ – because he had Haley; because he was in love. Fucking asshole. 

“Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, sorting through the papers in his pigeonhole – flyers for charity bake sales, a newsletter from last term – all stuff that he would throw immediately into the trash as soon as Spencer’s back was turned. 

“It was fun. Haley and I went to the Fremont Street Experience – we go every week.” 

Jon nodded, absently, screwing up a note that advertised _Religious Rejuvenation! True Vine Missionary Baptist Church. All are welcome! Pot Luck! Raffle! Fun for all the family!_

Behind that was a small folded note, addressed to him in messy cursive writing. 

 _Jon_ , it said. _My number_ , _in case you want to hang out this weekend, give me a call. Brendon (Urie)_

Jon turned the note over and then read over the words again, tucking it into his pants pocket. Brendon probably thought he was a rude asshole now. So much for making friends. He’d have to remember to check his pigeonhole more often. 

“Have you met Ryan yet?” Spencer asked, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder as Jon tried to juggle papers that could get thrown away with those he thought he should keep for future reference. “He’s always so moody in the mornings,” he warned darkly, as Jon looked up to see a tall, skinny young man moving between himself and Spencer, pulling the notices from his pigeonhole and dumping them all into a nearby trashcan without bothering to read them. 

The man, obviously Ryan Ross, regarded him with a quick look before straightening his suit jacket and offering his hand. 

“Ryan Ross, English,” the man said when Jon took his hand. 

That was abrupt. “Jon Walker, science.” 

“ _Head_ of science,” Spencer interjected and Jon watched as Ryan’s eyes rolled and he quickly withdrew his hand.  

“Yeah, Spencer only talked about you all weekend,” Ryan divulged, straight-faced enough that Jon couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Either way, he laughed, fixing his eyes behind Ryan’s shoulder and noticing the blush rise on Spencer’s cheeks. When he turned his attention back to Ryan, he caught his head tipped slightly to the side, his eyes travelling down his body and then flitting quickly back up. If they were anywhere other than a subdued teachers’ staffroom on a Monday morning, Jon would have sworn he was checking him out. Maybe he was. Ryan looked kind of gay. 

He was cute, in a pretty way; unbrushed hair that fell over his ears and light brown eyes. He was taller than Jon, and too skinny. Jon wondered how this kid managed to hold his own in a classroom. His shirt was unironed. 

“Jon wants to come to the bachelor party,” Spencer informed Ryan and Ryan, showing little sign of emotion on his face held eye contact with Jon until Jon felt the need to look away. 

“Does he really?” Ryan’s deadpan face softened slightly and Jon shrugged. 

“It sounds like fun, I’m always up for a party,” he claimed, because he needed friends; even if those friends did consist of Spencer and his weird roommates. 

“Well, clear my schedule, I’ll reorganize the whole thing, right away,” Ryan uttered, monotone and Jon laughed, nervously. Spencer huffed beside him and Jon would have taken an instant dislike to Ryan Ross, had he not been quick enough to catch the barely-there side-eye smile he shot him before turning away. 

Jon watched him leave and definitely didn’t notice the way Ryan’s slacks hugged his ass as he walked out of the room. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Brendon was driving to LA to meet a girl he’d been talking about for the past week, someone Ryan was sure didn’t exist. Someone Spencer had suggested would probably be a dude and how gross would that be, he’d commented making a face. Brendon had told him to shut up and stop being so jealous and then flashed Jon an embarrassed look across the table. 

“I’m hardly jealous!” Spencer had claimed. 

“Well, you should be, because this chick is super hot,” Brendon informed them. 

“Haley is super hot,” Spencer retorted and Jon caught Ryan wrinkling his nose in disagreement from his position sat next to Spencer at the table and had to suppress a laugh at that one lone expression. 

“Any super hot chick who meets you in real life Brendon, would be a fool not to run away, three hundred miles in the opposite direction,” Ryan told him, without cracking a smile. Jon liked Ryan’s dry wit. 

Brendon huffed, but didn’t look too despondent for long. He pulled his phone out, scrolled through it for a moment and then shoved it towards Jon on the table. 

“She’s not a dude. And she _does_ exist, we talk on the phone all the time.” Jon glanced down at a picture of a woman with huge blue eyes and glossy dark hair and she was definitely beautiful, Jon could agree. 

“You’d make a cute couple,” Jon told Brendon, pushing his phone back and flashing a smile. 

“Gosh, I would never meet anyone online. That’s so… _weird,_ ” Spencer commented. 

“You, Mr. Smith, have an incredibly loose definition of weird. This isn’t the nineties, everyone meets online these days,” Brendon had remarked, pushing his chair away and gathering up his bag from under the table. “See you suckers on Monday morning, I’ma get my fingers wet this weekend, so who’s the loser now, huh?” he asked and Jon laughed at him. He laughed harder at the disgusted look Spencer shot him. 

“That is _so_ disrespectful,” Spencer exclaimed, shaking his head and Jon cracked up, calling a quick _good luck, man_ after Brendon before turning his attention back to the table, his eyes accidentally locking with Ryan’s. Jon looked away first, out of the window and then down at the table. 

“What if she _is_ a dude?” Spencer asked, nudging Ryan who sat next to him. “Like that show on MTV? Oh my gosh.” Spencer’s eyes almost ignited at the visual in his mind, as he stared towards the door Brendon had just left out of. “That’d be so messed up,” he said absently. 

“Why don’t you reign in that homophobia around school, Spencer? You’re making us all look bad in front of your superior,” Ryan said, flashing Jon a look that he couldn’t read. 

“I’m not homophobic. I just think it’s messed up. I don’t hate gays – what they do _is_ pretty gross though,” he informed them. 

“Well, dude, that sounds pretty homophobic to me,” Jon commented, grabbing his coffee cup off the table and excusing himself. Spencer protested his point weakly. He didn’t hate Spencer for his comment – he couldn’t, because Spencer was naïve and sheltered and had probably only been with one girl in his life before, so he couldn’t really be held accountable for his old-fashioned morals. He walked towards the lockers to gather up his belongings for the weekend. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Ryan had crept up on him silently, as Jon was typing out a text to Joe on his cellphone and he’d jumped, looking up at the way Ryan leant against the teachers’ lockers with his arms folded. 

“Umm.” He bit his lip, trying to think of an excuse. Today, being a Friday meant Joe would probably be going out with William and Gabe, which meant no phone jerk-off session for him tonight, which depressingly, was becoming one of the best parts of his day. “Nothing,” he answered. “Why?” 

“I wanted to know if you fancied a drink or something. You know; at a bar.” 

Jon noticed it again; the way Ryan’s eyes dropped down his body, lingering on the floor for a moment before fixing on something of obvious great importance on the other side of the room. 

Since their introduction on Monday morning, Ryan had spent a lot more time hanging out in the staffroom than he had last week. Jon was unsure about him. He was certainly an attractive guy, but he seemed to know it and unlike Spencer, he actually said very little, but when he did speak, he was usually pretty spot on with his observations. 

Jon thought Ryan’s mostly deadpan recollections of dumb things he and Spencer had done as kids were very funny, but Ryan, at most, would only ever offer a complacent half-grin at the punch line of his stories and he would never laugh at Brendon’s dumb slapstick jokes, even though Jon felt he still had to – to be polite. Brendon had the stunted maturity of most of his pupils, but he was an incredibly popular teacher. Ryan had a reputation for being a bit of a dick around the school corridors. Apparently he was very strict, which he described as _running a tight ship_. 

“Umm.” Jon thought about the offer. What was he going to do tonight other than sit in his miserable apartment, get high and jerk off? “Sure. Okay.” 

“Any preference?” Ryan asked him, inspecting his nails. 

“Somewhere cheap?” Jon suggested and Ryan nodded, his expression totally unreadable. “Is, uh – will Spencer be there?” he asked, nodding his head over to the table he’d just vacated where Spencer was still sat, leaning over the back of the chair and engaging in an obviously one-sided conversation with one of the gym teachers. 

An almost-laugh escaped Ryan’s lips. “My obliviously homophobic friend, Spencer?” he sighed. There was a pause. “No. He’s not invited. Not that Haley would loosen the apron strings to let him out anyway,” he said, still regarding the scene in front of them. 

“Damn, well in that case I might just have to cancel, dude,” Jon joked and Ryan’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“Fine. I didn’t want to take you for a drink anyway.” 

Jon laughed as he collected his notebooks from his locker, pushing them into his bag. Ryan’s choice of words was weird. _Take you for a drink?_ Was that flirting? Was Ryan even gay? He’d talked briefly about an ex-girlfriend earlier this week, but it hadn’t been the first time Jon had wondered that since their introduction on Monday. A few times Jon had caught Ryan watching him as they sat in the break room, when Spencer or Brendon had been dominating the conversation and it was always a little weird, because instead of looking quickly away when their eyes locked like most normal people, Ryan would carry on looking at him, pull a face to indicate his boredom and then turn his attention slowly back to the conversation he was meant to be engaging in. 

“I just figured you’re new in town and probably don’t have any friends,” Ryan said, bluntly. “Where’re you living?” he asked, turning to face him. 

“Down on F Street and Jackson,” Jon told him. 

Ryan’s eyebrows rose under his messy bangs “Wow. That’s the ghetto,” he said and then he hummed as if regarding the situation. “What are you doing living down there?” 

“It’s cheap.” Jon closed his locker and hauled his bag onto his shoulder. He had so much marking to do over the weekend, but that could wait. It wasn’t unusual that he left most of his marking until Sunday evening. Back when he was teaching at the Catholic school in Chicago, Sunday evenings were always a mad rush to get his students’ work in order. Lesson plans and photocopies and presentations for the following week were often all organized the night before, usually on a drug comedown – and Patrick; Patrick was always so efficient, unlike Jon who really couldn’t force himself to care the majority of the time. 

“Fair enough.” Ryan’s face was still annoyingly neutral. “Well, I’ll pick you up. There’s a bar not too far from there that I go to now and then – cheap drinks, they serve food. There’re bands there sometimes. Mostly shit ones, but,” he finished with a shrug. “About eight?” 

“Sure.” Jon smiled back and Ryan looked so fucking bored, it was almost disconcerting. He wondered if they’d have anything to talk about at the bar later, if they’d actually have anything in common or if it’d entail awkward, forced conversations about school and students and fellow teachers and Ryan’s unexpressive face making Jon wonder if he was boring him or if Ryan really was that impassive. 

Maybe a night out would do him good though. He’d smoked a lot of weed since arriving in Las Vegas, but hadn’t had a drink since the first night he arrived when he and Joe gambled at the casinos. He was thankful that another week was over. 

“Well. That’s that then, I’ll see you at eight.” Ryan pushed himself away from the lockers with a small backwards look at Jon and _what a weirdo,_ Jon thought, shaking his head and finishing his text to Joe.

 

* * *

 

The bar was called Cosmo’s and it was located between a bordered up art gallery and a photography studio that advertised _Acting classes! Singing lessons! Cheapest in Vegas!_ It was a short drive over the Las Vegas Freeway from Jon’s place and Ryan had picked him up, dead on eight o’clock, just as Jon was finishing off a joint outside his apartment. 

“I can’t believe you live out this way,” were Ryan’s first words to him when he got in the car. Jon shrugged, because it wasn’t that bad – apart from the noise at night and the cop cars racing past at all hours of the day, he’d not had any trouble. No one so much as looked at him, let alone talk to him – but, he was going to sell his car, buy something with a Nevada license plate, because Joe had made him paranoid that his car with _Illinois_ scrolled on the plates was going to attract the wrong sort of attention in his new neighborhood. 

“It’s not so bad,” he explained, looking out the window as the apartments with barred windows turned into run down houses. It was kind of bad, he thought secretly, but he wasn’t going to tell either Ryan or Joe that. 

“Do you miss Chicago?” Ryan asked and Jon blinked out of the window. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I do.” But he didn’t miss Chicago. Not really. He missed Joe. 

“I’ve never been. I went to New York once. A few years ago.” 

Jon thought about his own experience in New York a few years ago. While he’d been having fun walking around Central Park and getting drunk in bars with William and Gabe, Pete Wentz had been successfully seducing his boyfriend back at home; fucking in their bed. Jon wondered how many times it had happened since the first, whether Patrick called Pete up when Jon went out on the weekend and asked him to come over and screw. _He’s out of the house, the coast is clear,_ he could imagine him saying into the phone as soon as he heard Jon’s car pull out of the driveway. 

“New York sucks,” he decided. “Chicago’s way better.” 

“Well, that’s your biased opinion,” Ryan retorted vacantly as they pulled up in front of the bar. “This is it.” 

Jon ducked his head to look up through the windshield. _24 Hour! Video Poker! Slots!_ read the sign above the prosaic bar front. There were two flags blowing in the breeze above the entrance. One American flag, the other a rainbow Pride one. So, Jon guessed that answered all his questions about Ryan’s sexuality. Now the stolen glances made a little more sense. Or maybe not… Perhaps Brendon had told Ryan about Jon’s friend _Joe_ back in Chicago – Joe with an E. Joe as in Joseph. 

“Is this a 24 hour _bar_?” he asked as they walked up to the door – also painted with rainbow colors. The bar inside was dark; a grungy old dive bar that Ryan certainly looked out of place in. There were a few biker guys who regarded them both as they entered and an old dyke-lesbian behind the bar, who shouted a welcome at them from across the room. 

“Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas,” Ryan said drolly, pulling out his wallet. “You cant catch a break out here, but you can drink around the clock. What d’you want?” 

“Whatever, dude, I’m not fussy.” Jon shrugged and Ryan ordered two Peroni’s, which Jon silently agreed was a good choice. They settled into a booth along the right side of the bar. The booths had high, red leather backs and Jon looked around the bar at the reasonably sparse décor. This seemed like a place he and Joe would come together. Patrick wouldn’t have enjoyed it here, because he liked expensive bars in the middle of the city where they could share a bottle of red wine and some _hors d’œuvres_ and all that fancy bullshit that Jon only ever bought into to keep Patrick happy.

“So, do you come here a lot?” Jon asked, turning his attention away from the out of place moose head above the bar and back toward Ryan. Ryan’s outfit this evening consisted of a pair of slim-fit chinos and a pink and white striped V-neck t-shirt and he looked an odd addition to the darkness of the bar. Jon looked up at the leather-clad bikers sat on barstools, nursing Bud Lites and took a sip of his beer. 

“Now and then,” Ryan shrugged. “It’s cheap, which is what you wanted.” 

 _Right._ Jon rubbed his finger through the wet ring that the bottom of his glass had left on the table and averted his eyes. “So, is there any other reason you brought me here? I’ll bet there’s a million and one cheap dive bars close by.” 

Ryan smiled and took a sip of his beer. When he put it back down on the table, his smile had gone. Jon watched his Adams apple bounce in his neck as he swallowed. “We can leave if you don’t like it.” 

Jon laughed and shook his head slightly, glancing back over at the two big bikers at the bar, who were both smoking. _Shit._ Jon kept forgetting it was legal to smoke inside here in Vegas. It certainly had its perks. He’d always hated having to go outside in the cold to smoke a cigarette back home. He pulled a new packet out of his pocket and unraveled the plastic. 

“D’you smoke?” he asked Ryan. 

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t mind if you do though. Go ahead. How long have you been teaching for?” he asked, after Jon lit up. 

“Since I left college. So… five years.” 

“Why did you leave Chicago?” 

Jon paused. _Why?_ Because he needed a job and the Clark County school district were the only ones who’d have him? Because of Patrick and his sham of a new relationship with Pete? He didn’t really know anymore. He felt like he’d just woken up here – reality was kicking in. He’d _moved,_ cross-country to live in _Nevada_ , a state he’d never so much as given any thought to before and what for? 

“I uh. I was in a relationship which came to a pretty messy end back in April,” he shrugged. Ryan took another sip of his beer, placing it down in the exact same water ring it had been sat in before. That was the only reason he was sat here, in a gay dive bar in Las Vegas – because of Patrick, because two and a half months ago he’d thought it completely impossible that he could happily live in the same city as his cheating ex-boyfriend and now, because of his stupid, rash decision to relocate he was almost two thousand miles away from the only man who’d made him feel human since his break-up. He wondered what Joe was doing right now and briefly thought about that slow drag and burn of his dick – he wondered if he was making eyes at some cute, young kid in a club, or whether Cooper had encroached on his life again yet. Maybe they were sat on his couch again, maybe Cooper was attempting to suck his cock. He hoped not. 

“Everyone who moves here is running from something; or some _one_ \- bad relationships or disgraced jobs. Think the bright lights of Las Vegas will offer them some kind of sanctuary. That they can get lost here or that they’ll win big and no, there’s nowhere to hide in Las Vegas and no one wins big these days. It’s the middle of the desert,” Ryan pointed out, steepling his fingers. “Who the _fuck_ would want to move out here?” 

“Well, I did.” Jon flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette. 

“You’re a fool then.” 

“I’m starting to realize that,” Jon retorted, taking a drag. “You don’t like it out here?” 

“I despise everything this fucking town stands for,” Ryan told him slowly, holding his gaze. Ryan was actually pretty intense, Jon realized. 

“Why are you still here then?” he asked, finishing off his cigarette and stubbing it out in the ashtray. 

“Oh, that’s a story for another night.” 

 _Interesting,_ thought Jon, feeling the need to light up another smoke. He was chain-smoking these days. “So. Do you have a girlfriend – or a boyfriend, seeing as you brought me to a gay bar?” 

“This isn’t a gay bar,” Ryan replied, a small smile tugging at his mouth. 

“I’m pretty sure it is.” 

“Oh,” Ryan opened his eyes wide with faux surprise. “I had no idea.” Jon laughed quietly. “So _that’s_ why guys always hit on me when I come here alone. Now it makes sense.” He turned around in the booth, giving the quiet bar a quick scan with his brown eyes and then settled his attention back on Jon. “Thanks. For letting me know. I’ll remember not to bring Spencer here for his bachelor party.” 

Jon laughed. _Fuck it,_ he pulled out another cigarette and lit the end before putting it into his mouth. 

“He’s just a little bit, umm-” Jon tried to search for the right word. Annoying, irritating, boring – so _boring_ , but harmless enough, Jon figured. Apart from maybe that bubbling homophobia he seemed to be carting around with him. 

“Tedious?” Ryan suggested. Tedious was right. “I’ve been stuck with him since we were four. I went to college, he followed. I applied for a job at the school after graduation – so did he; and miraculously they employed us both, and now we live together and we work together and his fiancée is at my house every night, so I can’t wait ‘til the fucker gets married and gets out of my hair for the first time in over twenty years.” Ryan looked despondently around the bar and then nodded at Jon’s empty glass. “Want another?” 

“I’ll get this one,” he offered, balancing his cigarette in the ashtray. “Same again?” 

“Yeah.” He felt Ryan’s eyes on him as he walked off to the bar to get another round in. _What was up with him,_ Jon thought as he waited for the bartender to pour their drinks. Ryan was strange, but there was something about him that Jon found interesting; fascinating even. He returned to the table and put their drinks down. 

“Looks like Brendon met up with his Internet date,” Ryan told him, turning his cellphone for Jon to see a still of Brendon with the girl he’d been shown a picture of earlier on, with the words: _HAHAHA, fuck you bitches. This chick is soooo HOT. BE JEALOUS._

“Wow,” Jon laughed. “She’s a stunner. What’s she doing meeting guys online?” 

Ryan lowered his phone and gazed over the picture again before turning it facedown on the table. 

“Brendon told me about you; having some guy back in Chicago.” 

Jon hummed and took the first sip of his second beer. _Some guy._ That’s what Joe had been reduced to. 

“Do you love him?” 

And the question had caught Jon so off guard that the truth had just fallen immediately from his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Tell me about him,” Ryan leant against the high back of the booth as if he was settling down to hear a story. Jon sighed. He didn’t know where to start. Did he start with Patrick and their break-up, or did he start with Joe, skip the Patrick debacle altogether and pretend like they’d never been an item, like he’d never loved Patrick with all his heart and soul, how, up until a few months ago, he’d have gladly taken a bullet for the man. He’d been such a huge part of his life and now he was just a bad memory. He’d have died for that motherfucker. 

“I don’t really know where to start.” 

“The beginning always works for me. How did you meet? What does he look like, what’s his name, is he good in bed – you know? That stuff.” 

Jon smiled. “Well. His name’s Joe. We met when – fuck,” he tried to recall it. “When I was about fifteen, sixteen. He was a friend of a friend; we met at a house party. I don’t know, we started hanging out with mutual friends, drank a lot together, snorted a lot of coke, smoked a lot of weed.” He shrugged, Ryan’s face remained neutral. It was kind of annoying. 

Jon vaguely recalled meeting Joe Trohman, when he was around fifteen or sixteen. He’d been a friend of someone they didn’t talk to anymore and had been so high on LSD that night that he made little sense. They were acquaintances for a year or so before they became proper friends and Jon always thought he was cool; the easiest person out of their group to get fucked up with. 

William was intense _sober_ , let alone on ecstasy or speed and once he was introduced to _Gabe, Travis’s friend from New York_ , there was little hope for him, because Gabe knew his drugs and William had fallen head-over-heels for him, much to the dismay of Jon at the time, because Gabe was achingly attractive and had once, high on coke when Jon was still a reasonably under practiced seventeen year-old, sucked him off on the couch in William’s mother’s garage – but that was ancient history and neither of them had ever mentioned it to each other again after that night. 

Jon had always found it hard to believe that Joe had been the one to introduce Pete to the group. He’d never been a friend of Jon’s and even Joe didn’t really have much in common with him. Pete always just hung out, talking about the Chicago punk scene and he had funny shit to say sometimes, but usually only when Jon was high. Once, about a year before Jon met Patrick, perhaps around 2006, Pete had sat next to Jon on the couch in William’s living room, pushing his Sidekick cellphone under his nose and whispering, “What d’you think of that, huh?” And Jon had tried to get his stoned eyes to focus on the screen, which showed a picture of Pete holding his dick. 

“I think you’re stretching that thing out like crazy,” Jon told him, pulling away from the arm Pete had draped around his shoulders. Pete had folded his cellphone back into his pocket. “What are you doing showing me pictures of your flaccid dick, dude? Get lost,” and Pete had just laughed and shrugged and left him alone on the couch most likely leaving to show some other unsuspecting fool his dick-pics. 

“I went to college, met a guy. Was in a six-year relationship that broke down a few months ago. Joe and I hooked up and umm, yeah,” Jon finished with another shrug. He couldn’t describe all the intricate ins and outs of their relationship from there; all those stupid things Joe did that made him fall in love too quickly. 

“Does he love you?” Ryan asked and Jon didn’t know why he was choosing to be so honest with this guy; he was still a basic stranger. 

“I think so. I hope so,” he corrected, taking a reassuring mouthful of beer, and then another until the glass was only a quarter full. 

Ryan adjusted his gaze, nodding his head slightly as if he understood. 

“So, Ryan. I’ve told you my story. What’s yours?” 

Ryan put his chin in his hand and smiled wide. It was pretty dazzling; his eyes creased at the corners, his white teeth shining. “Really. You want to know that? All my secrets, the skeletons in my closet.” 

“You sure the skeletons are the only thing in your closet?” Jon asked, finishing off the last of his beer. 

Ryan smiled that smile again, his eyes motioned over at the bar. “Buy me another drink and they will be.” 

Jon’s heart picked up. That was definite flirting. He walked to the bar and ordered another round. 


	4. Chapter 4

Jon hadn’t been this drunk in quite some time. They were still sat in the same booth in the same shitty dive bar, but Ryan had moved to sit next to him three drinks ago. They’d upgraded their strong Italian beers to generously poured spirits and Jon was definitely past the point of caring that Ryan was sat so close to him, his body turned into his, away from the handful of local patrons who’d arrived at the bar a few hours ago. 

“So. Patrick?” Ryan had asked, their shoulders pushed tightly together, because of course, five or six drinks in, Jon had felt relaxed enough to tell him all about Patrick; about Pete too and their two year love affair behind his back. “Patrick’s the one with the huge dick? Your ex?” 

“No. _Joe’s_ the one with the huge dick,” Jon corrected. He could have sworn he’d explained this to him before. 

Ryan hummed. “Well. It’s a no-brainer,” he said, conclusively. “Always choose the guy with the biggest dick.” 

Jon laughed and dropped his head down onto Ryan’s shoulder. They were that close – and that drunk. “He’s actually one of the coolest guys I know as well, so. Don’t assume it’s just about the big cock,” Jon said, fully at ease now in Ryan’s company. Jon raised his eyes to see Ryan’s lips pull into small smile. 

“So… Basically you’re hung up on this one guy,” Ryan looked over at him pointedly, “who was a rebound fuck after you found out your ex had been cheating on you and then you ended up falling in love,” he continued with a dreamy, over-exaggerated sigh. “But only after you’d accepted this job out here and now you're here and he's there and you're miserable because you're not getting that D?” 

“Basically,” Jon said. “Yeah.” 

Jon thought Joe was perfect, right down to the little idiosyncrasies that he’d started to notice on their journey from Chicago. Joe left lights on in empty rooms, sometimes he talked with his mouth full and he’d always switch the radio or the iPod over halfway through a song that Jon was enjoying. Those little things irritated him, but not enough that they’d stopped him from falling in love again - and Ryan had it all wrong. It wasn't just about the sex - although the sex was certainly a part of it. At night it was the comfort of falling asleep next to him, the fact that his heart felt it had been drop-kicked across the room when he caught Joe watching him. When he thought about Joe, his stomach fluttered and his heart felt weightless – and his cock would twitch, sure, but that wasn't the main reason he felt miserable the majority of the time. Joe was the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the morning and the last person he’d think about before he fell asleep at night and every time his phone would buzz, his heart would grow hopeful that it was _him_. He felt like a teenager again. 

“Whose round is it?” Ryan asked, his already monotone voice slurring just ever so slightly with the effects of the alcohol.

“Yours.” It wasn’t. It was his. Ryan gave him an unamused look but pushed himself out of the booth all the same, using Jon’s thigh for leverage.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think I should be doing this,” Jon mumbled, his head and his heart and his dick all at battle with each other as he pushed Ryan up against the gay pride mural on the outside wall of the bar. Ryan’s hands were pushed into the back of Jon’s hair, his eyes already closed and his lips already half parted and wet as Jon gripped his hips. “I really shouldn’t be doing this,” he repeated as their mouths pressed together again and a warm night breeze blew between them. 

He didn’t feel like _Joe_. Ryan was too skinny for a start, his wrists had to arch at odd angles to hold his hips against the wall and he knew – he knew after the second drink that tonight would probably end this way, and _fuck,_ he knew it shouldn’t. 

He didn’t even kiss like Joe and that’s who he wanted; Joe’s aggressive mouth and his strong hands – he wanted to be the one being backed up against the wall, he’d give anything to hear Joe’s voice in his ear, feel his fingers cupping his dick through his jeans. He thrust his own growing erection into Ryan’s thigh and then pulled away.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand – and he was right, he knew in his heart that he was right. There were a million and one reasons why he shouldn’t take Ryan back to his place and fuck him, but only one of them seemed to matter in his drunken mind – and that one reason was Joe. 

“It’s not like he’s ever going to know,” Ryan smiled, rolling on his heels and pushing his crotch out as his shoulders settled back against the painted wall. 

“Yeah,” agreed Jon. “But I’ll know – and fuck; we _work_ together, we… that’s going to make things so awkward, dude. I’m-” 

Ryan grabbed onto his shirt, pulling their bodies close again. “It’s not like you’re even official yet,” he whispered, his hand sliding down his stomach. He palmed Jon’s dick through his jeans, squeezing gently and Jon curbed a moan from escaping his mouth by pressing his lips against Ryan’s and letting his tongue push inside. 

They made out against the wall for a minute, Jon’s reluctant body eventually giving into it, falling foul of what his stupid whiskey dick currently wanted and pushing the justified guilt that would no doubt be plaguing him come tomorrow morning to the back of his head. His hands came up to fist softly in Ryan’s hair. He couldn’t even fake that Ryan was Joe. Ryan was too bony; his hair was too short, his lips too soft. He wasn’t smoky enough, he didn’t taste right, he didn’t smell right, he felt wrong under Jon’s hands. He wasn’t greedy enough to take what he wanted from Jon lips, he was too placid, too skinny, too goddamn fucking convenient right now… 

Jon heard a holler and a whistle from the other side of the street, but he didn’t pull away. “ _Damn_ , boys, get a room!” came a shout from the direction of the jeers and Jon pulled back, trying to focus drunkenly on Ryan’s eyes, his hands still holding his face. 

“Get a room or ask us to join in!” followed another shout. Jon watched Ryan’s eyes flash, his bottom lip red and puffy from their kiss. Joe would have had something witty and cutting to say back at those hecklers, Jon thought as he turned his head and flipped them off - the bikers from earlier, stumbling together down the sidewalk. 

 _God,_ he thought, _I’d kill to have him here right now._

“I can’t. I _shouldn’t_ ,” Jon sighed. 

Ryan’s long, bony fingers came up to rub over Jon’s jaw. “Chicago’s two thousand miles away. It’s just sex.” Yeah, and that’s what he’d been telling himself it was between he and Joe for the past two months – _just_ sex, nothing more, just _sex_ – and look where that had got them. Jon shook his head. “Does he really mean that much to you?” 

Jon paused, because _did he?_ Was Jon willing to let a meaningless fuck with Ryan Ross, the English teacher pass because of how he felt about Joe? Joe would probably never even find out and he was drunk and Ryan was right – Chicago was two thousand miles away. Joe might not even care. He thought about Joe, driving his car, somewhere on the road between Denver and Salt Lake City, blue sky above them and the way he’d looked when he divulged Jon his childhood memories. _Fuck,_ Joe meant everything to him. He really _was_ in love, he realized as he let Ryan's face go. It wasn’t just some domino effect after falling _out_ of love with Patrick. He _loved_ him – and he was going to turn Ryan down because of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling away from Ryan and stepping back a few steps on the sidewalk. 

“Fine.” Ryan’s lazy eyes rolled, but his mouth still held some resemblance to a smile. “Dicktease.” 

Jon breathed a laugh, pushing his hands up his face and through his hair, watching as Ryan adjusted his t-shirt and pushed himself up off the wall. He felt almost embarrassed – but that sure beat the feeling of shame that he’d be feeling tomorrow if he woke up naked next to Ryan. At least now he could hold his head up reasonably high and look Joe in his eyes and say; _I turned him down, all because of you_ and maybe it was fate when Jon’s cellphone vibrated in his pocket right then. He knew of only one person who’d text him at – he looked at his phone – 2.49AM. 

 _Come home. You belong right here._

Jon’s nose tickled as he blinked at the picture that had been sent after the words – his empty side of Joe’s bed. 


	5. Chapter 5

After returning alone to his own apartment in the small hours of Saturday morning, his weekend seemed to have gone from bad to worse. He’d woken up late on Saturday with a horrible hangover; three missed calls from Joe, two from William – there was even a mysterious out-of-context message from Gabe. 

 _Shit just went down bro!_

Even stranger were the two texts in his inbox from Patrick. Jon had long since deleted Patrick’s contact from his phone, but he recognized that combination of numbers anywhere. 

 _So, wen did u move to las Vegas? Weird choice…_

And, sent half an hour later, the text that had eventually woken him up at almost a quarter past midday that Saturday afternoon; 

 _Joe is such a fucking douche. Gd luck with that 1._  

He was reading through his messages for the third time, trying to piece together the puzzle, when Gabe’s name flashed up on his phone and he answered it blearily, keen to find out what the missed calls and out of the blue texts from Patrick were all about, because it was unusual that he woke up to such high traffic on his cellphone.  

“Hey,” he answered, trying hard not to sound like he’d just woken up.  
  
“What’s up, Jon Boy? Shit, you would not believe what just happened. _What-? No, dude let me tell him_.” Jon could hear Gabe talking to someone else through his cellphone and listened hard to try and detect Joe’s voice. “ _Joe_!” Jon could hear a scuffle through the end of the line and cleared his throat. 

“Gabe, let me talk to Joe,” he told him. It was another few seconds before Gabe gave him his full attention again. 

“You don’t want to talk to Gabey Baby?” he asked and Jon could imagine that stupid pout, Gabe looking as if he’d just stepped out of a hair product commercial and he rolled his eyes, sitting up in bed and balking at the sickness inside his stomach. 

“You really shouldn’t refer to yourself as that anymore. Put Joe on.” 

“Sure, sure. Here he is…” There were another few seconds of scuffling as Gabe passed the phone over and then, Joe’s voice in his ear, a door closing, the background noise fading to silence. 

“Hey.” 

“What’s gone on?” Jon asked. He was still in his clothes from last night, which was becoming a common theme in Jon’s life these days; getting so high or too drunk that he’d just pass out in bed, fully clothed. He stood up from the bed, rubbed his sleep-clouded eyes and pushed his hand into his hair, scratching at his head. It was thumping – he couldn’t drink like he used to anymore; the hangovers were getting worse, his body couldn’t just jump back like it did when he was in his early twenties. He unpopped the top button on his jeans, slid them down his thighs and kicked them off his ankles, flopping back down on the bed because getting up, walking around and moving seemed like way too much of an effort. 

“We ran into your gentleman of an ex-boyfriend at lunch today, out with Pete and some other dudes.” 

Jon blinked up at the ceiling, the off-white orange peel texture was cracking in the corner of the room. He needed to move out of the ‘hood and find a better place to live. 

“Did, uh – did something kick off?” he asked. He sort of hoped it hadn’t; he didn’t need Joe and Patrick fighting over their stupid differences back in Chicago. 

Joe huffed. “I can usually keep my cool, dude, but not when someone sits there, straight-up talking shit about you. I had to say something!” 

“Who was talking shit about me?” 

“Pete – being super loud, the obnoxious fuck. So… _basically_ …” Joe sighed, launching into a blow-by-blow account of what had happened that lunchtime back in Chicago. 

He, Gabe and William had gone out for lunch and settled on a microbrewery at the harbor. Gabe, as always, was intent on getting wasted and had bought two pitchers of beer for the table by the time Pete turned up and settled at the table next to theirs, closely followed by Patrick and another couple. He could only assume they were a couple, Joe claimed. He recognized one of them as this dude, Andy, someone he vaguely remembered as a friend of Pete’s from back in the day, some tatted up rocker who looked out of place sat with three _pretty boys,_ as Joe called them. 

They’d sat at the table next to them, Pete’s smile unfaltering as always and Joe claimed Patrick looked awkward and Jon could picture it all so clearly – that stupid grin of Pete’s and Patrick’s mouth drawn into a self-conscious line and Pete probably turned to him and asked if everything was okay and Patrick probably nodded, without saying anything, without even cracking a smile and the blush would rise on his cheeks and he’d bite his lip and withdraw from the group. Jon knew Patrick’s coping strategies better than he knew his own. He even sighed a small laugh thinking about it. 

“Gabe started it, anyway, because you know what he’s like,” Joe explained. “Can’t keep his fucking mouth closed at the best of times. Pete was talking shit back, he asked where you were – so I told them about that super awesome, high-paying job you got out in Vegas and how happy you were out there – gave ‘em the spiel. Patrick looked super pissed, he excused himself from the table and was gone about twenty fucking minutes, dude.” 

“He sent me a message,” Jon told him, his hand idly pushing down his boxer briefs. “He called you a fucking douche.” 

Joe laughed. “Yeah, I got us all kicked out.” 

He explained to Jon how the lunch had ended with him threatening to take Pete on outside. Jon didn’t know how Pete managed to wind Joe up so much. If he’d have been there, he’d probably have just got up and left and hopefully Joe would have followed him out without making a scene. 

“He said, _I will kick your ass in front of every single person in this room,_ and I was like, _bring it on, dude. Hit me – I’d really love for you to hit me in front of all these witnesses. I will take you outside, motherfucker, one-on-one, because I bet you ain’t shit in a fight._ And then Patrick was trying his best to diffuse the situation and no offence, Jon, Patrick’s a stupid fucking prick and then one of the dude servers came over, asked us to calm down and fucking Pete, dude – looked me straight in the eye and apologized in front of him, and Bill and Gabe and I were just over it, man. We paid the fucking check and went to leave and right as I was passing their table, Pete goes; _not surprising Jon left you after all of two months, bro,_ ” he mocked with an accent. “ _Even your mom got tired of you after a few years._ And dude – I lost my fucking shit.” Joe huffed out a sigh on the other end of the line and Jon’s heart beat hard in his chest, right up into his head. 

“Fuck,” Jon breathed, not in shock, because he wasn't surprised at either Joe's or Pete's reactions to each each. It was more through frustration; frustration at the situation, at the fact that he hadn't been there and Joe had to defend him. Jon didn't know why Joe was on the recieving end of all Pete's aggression, because Pete could hate Jon as much as he liked; the feeling was certainly mutual, but Joe had done nothing to deserve such a below the belt insult. “What happened?” 

“Dude, Pete’s forgetting the household I grew up in. I grew up fighting. I didn’t spend years being beat on by my dad without learning how to defend myself against hateful little fucks like him. So, I fucking squared up to him. Told him we should take it outside and that I would kick his ass in the middle of the street on a Saturday afternoon and that it would be worth getting arrested over and if he ever talks shit about my family, or about you ever again I would smash his face up so fucking hard that even a blind fuck like Patrick wouldn’t look at him again.” The silence that followed rung loud in Jon’s ears. 

He didn’t know what to say – _thank you? Oh, you shouldn’t have_? Maybe, _I could’ve got laid last night and I didn’t because, fucking hell, man, I’m in love with you._

“You stuck up for me again. Thanks,” Jon decided to say after the silence rang for too long and he remembered back to the night of William’s birthday, stood outside that bar with Patrick and Pete, where Joe squared up to Patrick, spitting that he should just fuck off, if he knew what was good for him. Or the time they’d both taken that cheap speed they’d bought off Travis and wound up hanging out with Cooper at that depressing all-ages club one Wednesday evening – Joe had stuck up for him then too; that had been another fight Joe and Pete had almost got into, a night that ended – or maybe it started – with Joe getting carted out by security because Jon remembered how it ended _._ It ended with him and Joe fucking in that club bathroom. It ended with bruises on his hips and Joe's come running out between his legs. 

“Dude, I’m not going to sit back and let Pete Wentz shit-talk you in front of all his pussy-ass, straight-edge friends – and you know why Patrick’s such a spineless motherfucker? Because he lets him; you never did shit to warrant that treatment and – _yeah, alright_.” Jon could hear Gabe’s loud voice floating through the cellphone. “I’ve gotta go,” Joe sighed. “Gabe wants his phone back. I’ll call you – sometime soon.” 

The silence that followed begged to be filled, but Jon just said goodbye and then hung up, cursing up at the ceiling. _Life_ , he thought, turning over to bury his face in his bed covers, _was ridiculously unfair_.

Joe was The One – he blinked at the realization. He’d always thought it had been Patrick; six years of your life is a long time to give someone, especially when they hadn’t been fully committed for the same amount of time but now he knew and it was all totally fucked up because Joe was always going to be back in Chicago and he needed this job here in Vegas, because teaching was the only thing he knew how to do without fucking it up and – well, he guessed he’d even fucked that up sufficiently already; sufficiently enough that he’d had to move all the way out to goddamn _Nevada_ to get another job. 

It hurt; it really fucking hurt. Joe hadn’t even been gone two weeks and he was pining after him like a lovesick teenage girl. He was beginning to forget Joe’s smell, the sound of his sighs when he came. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his messages – those two from Patrick, the fucker, settled awkwardly in the pit of his stomach and then messages from Joe – dozens of them, interposed with a few texts from his mother, worrying about him, desperate to know what he was doing and how Las Vegas was treating him.  

He wondered briefly what his mom would think of Joe, whether she’d think they were a good a match for each other as she’d thought he and Patrick were. He let the fantasy play on his mind; he and Joe at Thanksgiving, sat together in his mom’s sitting room or sharing a sneaky joint on her back steps and then climbing into his old childhood bed together, fucking quietly as not to wake his mother. In his fantasy, he was fucking Joe, Joe’s legs bent and wrapped around his middle and in his fantasy, they were both high, Jon’s hand muffling Joe’s mouth, Joe’s blue eyes in the darkness and his smile behind his hand and that fucking intoxicating smell of pot and cologne on his neck and the words on his lips that would come so naturally by November… 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, dude,” Jon said to himself, pushing his tired, hungover body up from his bed, but really, it all fell into place – he and Joe; it was all just fucking destiny.

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to marry her, I swear to god,” Brendon sighed, his head dropping back on the back of the couch in the staffroom. “She’s so hot.” 

It was another Monday morning; the start of Jon’s third week and Brendon had been talking about his Internet date, Sarah since he arrived. The date had gone pretty well apparently and Brendon was quick to assure everyone that she was certainly no dude - he’d fucked her on the first night, then again the next morning – and after lunch. He’d even treated her to dinner at the Chateau Marmont – and complained incessantly about the fact he’d spent over three hundred dollars. 

“Dude, I admit, I was trying to impress – but we ordered two bottles of red wine before I realized those things were fucking sixty bucks _each_ ,” he lamented across the couch at Jon. 

“Least you got some action, man,” Jon told him. 

“Chicks dig that shit too – you know, nice restaurants and expensive wine and all that and _fuck_ , she’s so hot, man.” Brendon shook his head, almost in a daze. “So hot.” 

“Well, I’m glad the drive down to LA was worth it,” Jon commented, his eyes glued to the staffroom door, keeping a look out for Ryan. 

Since their awkward goodbye the other night at the bar, he’d not seen or heard from Ryan Ross. There were five minutes before the start of the first class of the week and he’d not yet shown his face. Jon kept wondering whether this was punishment for leaving him hanging the other night. He also wondered whether Brendon knew. Maybe Ryan had already told him all the gossip – all about Patrick the cheating ex and the fact that he was too hung up on Joe, with the big dick that he’d refused to do anything more than make out with him against the wall of the bar after hours of subtle flirting. 

“How was your weekend anyway?” Brendon asked after a pause. 

Jon shrugged. “Pretty uneventful.” Which of course, was a lie because after the phone call from Joe on Saturday morning, he’d promptly run out of weed and had spent the entire rest of the weekend wondering whether he should give Brendon a call in LA and ask if he knew where he could get any. Maybe Ryan would know, but he didn’t feel too much like striking up awkward conversation with the man he’d turned down sex with to ask if he had any pot. 

The more he thought about what had happened at home the more anxious he became and the more he thought about those texts from Patrick, the more he had an overwhelming desire to smoke – ten bucks would keep him high for the rest of the weekend and it shamed him to do it, but a few hours after his conversation with Joe, he found himself stood outside his front door, glancing down warily at his neighbors smoking outside theirs, wondering if they’d be cool if he just went down there, struck up conversation about the broken washing machines in the laundry room and told them he’d put five on it. 

As it turned out, he didn’t really have the guts and come Monday morning, he felt unusually stressed about the start of a new school week. Firstly, Ryan was still being elusive and Jon didn’t appreciate it – he knew he shouldn’t have kissed him, he _knew_ it and now he was being punished. Also, what was even _with_ Ryan Ross? He assumed Spencer knew nothing about his best friend’s sexual preferences, but what about Brendon? Things like this never really bothered Jon, but this morning they were driving him to distraction. 

“Hey, listen,” he turned his attention from the staffroom door back to Brendon – Brendon with his smart grey cardigan and perfect teeth and expressive eyes. “Do you umm. Do you smoke?” Jon asked, holding his index finger against his thumb and raising his hand halfway to his mouth. 

Brendon’s dark eyes tracked the room behind Jon. “You mean, _marijuana_?” he asked, barely audible, a smile pulling his lips. 

“Yes. That.” 

“You need some?” he asked and stood up from the couch to sit down next to Jon. 

“You think you’d be able to hook me up?” 

Brendon shrugged, his eyes locked on two of the math teachers whom Jon didn’t know, talking to the Principal, easy, smiling conversation. “Ryan and I usually go in halves – twenty, twenty-five bucks for an eighth,” he said quietly, his voice dropped down low. 

Jon wrinkled his nose – twenty bucks for an eighth must have been shitty quality weed. “If I give you fifty dollars, d’you think you could get me something high qual’?” he asked. 

“I thought you said you only smoked a little bit, every now and then,” Brendon pointed out and Jon laughed, remembering back to the first time they’d met, sharing a cigarette in Jon’s car that lunchtime. 

“Dude, I smoke a lot like, all the time and I ran out on the weekend…” 

“Sure, I’ll pick something up for you. It’s this guy – Ryan knows him better than I do, they were in school together, he’s been growing for a couple years but the last few times we bought off him, his shit don’t seem to get me high,” Brendon commented with a sigh. 

“Fool, you’ve gotta pay more than twenty bucks if you want to get high.”

Brendon laughed and gave Jon’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I’ll hook you up, man,” he said, pushing up from the couch. Brendon stretched, his back arching, his ass pushing out and Jon watched, only for a split second before his attention was dragged toward Ryan, stood at the lockers watching them. Jon didn’t know how long he’d been in the room; Brendon gave a small wave in his direction before gathering his bag and Ryan nodded in reply. Brendon had walked away and Jon managed a pathetic smile, but his greeting wasn’t returned and Ryan turned back to his locker, his face hidden by the grey metal door. 

 _This, Jon Walker,_ he cursed himself, _is certainly not your year._ The school bell sounded and it was hard work just to force himself out of the couch and past Ryan towards his classroom.

 

 

* * *

 

“Dude.” It was Tuesday lunchtime and Jon looked over the back of the headrest of his car seat and raised an eyebrow at Brendon. “Where’s the rest of it?” 

Ryan laughed in the passenger seat and Spencer, who was sat in the back, behind Jon glanced between the two men, blue eyes wide and quick. 

“That’s what he said I could get for one fifty,” Brendon was quick to assure him. Jon held up the Ziploc bag of weed Brendon had just presented him with and shook his head. 

Yesterday at lunch Jon had no choice but to engage in conversation with Ryan, because when he got to the staffroom, he’d been sat with Brendon and Spencer and Spencer, his usual, enthusiastic self had waved him over and offered him half his sandwich, because Haley always made him way too much lunch and he was full. 

Sitting down, Ryan hadn’t said anything for a few minutes, not until Brendon mentioned the fact that he was going to pick up some weed later. “Jon’s giving me fifty bucks,” he said, turning to Ryan and Ryan regarded Jon with a long look. “Maybe we could both put fifty in, as well. Make it worth my while going all the way over the other side of town. Divvy it up, between the three of us?” 

Ryan hadn’t taken much convincing and soon the deal was all being set into place – fifty bucks each, Brendon was going to drive out to this grower guy’s house later that evening and buy some quality pot. Jon didn’t know what had gone wrong with something that should have been pretty fucking simple, but Brendon, the naïve fucker, had been seriously ripped off. 

The four of them had sat in Jon’s car, Spencer only tagging along because he didn’t want to be left alone in the staffroom and they’d driven out of school and parked in a KFC drive-through when Brendon pulled out the Ziploc bag and presented it to Jon. 

“How many times have you bought weed before, dude? Did you even try it before you paid this fucker one hundred and fifty dollars?” Jon opened the bag and inhaled; it smelt like – Jon couldn’t quite place it, but it didn't smell fresh. Ryan grabbed the bag from Jon’s hands and brought it to his nose. 

“Smells like curry powder,” he commented. Brendon shrugged, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tried to make light of the situation. 

“It looked like good quality bud to me,” Brendon told them and Ryan laughed again, almost struggling to hide the smile on his lips. 

“Looks like you’ve paid about hundred dollars too much for some crappy trim, man. Fucking hell. D’you need someone to go with you next time, hold your hand?” 

“Oh. _Sorry_ , Jon Walker, head of science; if I’d have known you were so fussy about your weed, man, I’d have made you go. That Brent is a fucking weirdo, anyway, I swear he’s gay – no offense,” Brendon said, touching Jon’s shoulder. Jon’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror and caught Spencer’s brow furrowing for a second before his face returned to neutral. “Anyway, he was super high when I got there. Did I really fuck up that bad?” 

“Let’s smoke some and find out,” Jon said. He took the bag back from Ryan and pulled out a bud; it crumbled in his fingers and he shook his head and swore under his breath. He turned to Ryan. “Do you get high off this shit?” 

Ryan shrugged – it was funny between them; it was as if they knew a secret that no on else did. It wasn’t really sexual tension, but Jon could admit, despite himself that there was some level of attraction – not that he wanted to act on it, but he figured a little flirting never really harmed anyone. 

“I’ve bought stuff off Brent before which was pretty good.” 

Jon packed a bowl and wound his window up. “Let’s fucking hot box this shit. Spencer, window up or get out the car.” He caught Spencer’s attention in his mirror and Spencer paused, biting his lip. 

“Are you all really going to smoke before going back to school?” he asked. 

“I’m serious. Wind your window up or get out the car.” 

Spencer sighed, but decided, much to Jon’s surprise, that he’d stay. He wound his window up and Jon brought his pipe to his mouth, lighting the bowl and watching the weed inside flicker orange. He took a cautionary inhale, held it for a few seconds and then exhaled, watching the smoke plume out from between his lips. He took another hit, a strong one this time and coughed it out after five seconds, his back of his throat burning. 

“Dude, that is really fucking harsh,” he told them, passing the pipe and lighter over to Ryan. “Next time I’m gonna give you the money after you come back with the weed,” he laughed, twisting his body to look back at Brendon – but oh no, there it was; his head a little heavier, his eyelids lazy. 

Jon looked over at Ryan, the tip of the pipe against his lips, face relaxed as he tipped the flame against the end and sucked, his cheeks hollowing slightly, his eyes closed, lashes dark against his pale face and then he lowered the pipe, tipped his head back. Jon watched his Adam’s apple in his neck, so defined as it bounced and then Ryan’s lips pursed, the smoke blown out from between them, billowing in front of Ryan face, dissipating against the roof of the car – and Jon swallowed and then Ryan opened his eyes and Jon looked away, because there was always going to be something distinctly phallic about smoking, especially marijuana from a glass pipe, so it wasn’t like Jon was particularly off point for picturing it, if only for a second – his dick between Ryan’s soft, pink lips. 

Ryan’s brown eyes flicked over at Jon and he smiled, reaching his arm back between the seats to pass the pipe to Brendon. 

“So?” Brendon asked, his eyebrows raising as he quickly brought it up to take a hit. He only took a small one – he certainly wasn’t as fun to watch smoking. Jon was looking at Ryan looking out the window, when Brendon nudged his arm with the lighter. 

“D’you want a hit, Spence?” Jon asked and Brendon and Ryan both turned their attention toward him. Spencer shook his head. 

“No, no. No, I don’t. I – Haley wouldn’t- she’d kill me,” he stammered, waving his hands in front of the pipe and lighter Jon was holding out to him. 

“Haley’s not here though, is she?” Brendon knocked the heel of his hand into Spencer’s shoulder, pushing him roughly against the window. 

“Haley’ll never know – and what people don’t know, can’t hurt them. Right, Jon?” Ryan turned toward him pointedly, his eyebrows raised, his lips turned into a self-satisfied little smirk and Jon felt himself blush, but bit back all the same. 

“I was just kidding. Right on, Spencer, putting your girl first. It takes a strong man not to give into that sort of pressure.” He turned back around in his seat and took another long hit. Ryan laughed incredulously, shaking his head. 

“It could have been a lot of fun,” Ryan smiled and Jon couldn’t tell whether he meant their sex the other night or Spencer stoned, so he took another hit, before passing it back to Ryan, without looking at him. 

Jon didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t smoked since Friday and it was now Tuesday or the fact that the weed Brendon had bought wasn’t particularly that bad, but by the time he returned to school and stood in front of his first class of that afternoon, he was pretty fucking stoned. 


	6. Chapter 6

That week, Jon had confiscated a small amount of sticky, fresh weed from two of his pupils. Spencer said he should definitely hand it over to the Principal and Brendon said, _fuck no, what’s she going to do with it? Keep it, man_ – which had been the whole reason he’d confiscated the pot in the first place. He didn’t do it to be a dick, but last thing on Wednesday afternoon, two boys who'd sat at the back of the classroom with their hats on brought the skunky stench of good quality marijuana wafting into his classroom and he only called them out because they kept laughing at the back of the room. 

“Okay, so which structure is primarily responsible for directing all processes of a plant cell?” he’d asked his class. He was so fucking done with plant cells, with kids, with teaching – he wondered how clearly it showed on his face when he stood in front of the class to speak. “What about Cheech and Chong at the back there, d’you know?” and he held the attention of the two boys in question for a second before they looked at each other, tried to surpass a laugh and then stared down at their desks. “If you want to get high before class, boys, you should really work on hiding it a little better.” _Like me_ , he thought, _you’re both just fucking amateurs_. 

Those boys would have been him twelve or thirteen years ago, but he didn’t feel guilty when he called them to the front and told them to hand over the bud, because hell, he could send them both to the Principal if they didn’t – they’d get excluded, maybe even questioned by the cops, he’d lied shamelessly and it hadn’t taken much more than that for the first boy to dig his hands into the pockets of his saggy pants and pull out a small Ziploc bag with two green, sticky buds inside. 

“Don’t bring this to school again,” he warned them. “What you do outside has nothing to do with me, but I may not be so lenient next time.” The two boys had shuffled back to their desks, one of them murmuring that he was a _asshole_ as he slumped back down in his seat, but Jon didn’t care. Jon had their weed; they were the real assholes. 

On Friday afternoon, before his last class, he’d smoked that weed alone in his car – it was a good high. Jon’s head felt heavy, his eyes low and lazy as he entered the classroom that afternoon and he suddenly felt way too languid to teach for an hour so had handed out textbooks and told them to copy out pages nineteen to twenty-three and if they didn’t finish they’d be taking it home. He’d text Joe under his desk at the front of the class. 

 _Having extremely NSFW thoughts about you right now, mister._

Joe’s text came through almost immediately, buzzing silently in his hand. He looked up at his class through his high, his head swimming. The majority of his pupils were writing quietly – a couple at the back seemed to have been caught mid-conversation and he held their gaze until they started scribbling, before looking back down at his phone. 

 _Story of my life, bro. Can’t wait to bend you over again and fuck your incredible asshole. Love to see my cum dripping out of you… x_  

Jon’s pulse quickened at the visual. He regarded his class with another quick glance – and those two fucking kids were still deep in hushed conversation, oblivious to the fact that he was still watching them. He couldn’t remember their names; he didn’t know whether that was because he was high and had just forgotten, or the fact he’d never really learnt them – but he wished he had, because he would call them out in front of the whole class if he did. He looked back down at his phone. 

 _Bet you’d love my lips around your huge dick. Cant wait to get down on my knees in front of u again and suck u off til u come down my throat xxx_

He typed quickly, pressing send before he changed his mind. When he looked back up at his class, the two pupils at the back were passing a silvery square of aluminum foil between each other and he cleared his throat, because they were obviously swapping drugs. The class looked up at him, the two kids in the back row blushing red as one of them quickly snatched his hand back into his lap to hide the offending square envelope of foil. A more naïve teacher – Spencer for example, would definitely not have realized what was going on in the back row, but Jon had lived it – trying to fool teachers that he wasn’t high, making plans for pot or acid pick-ups in the back row of class on a Friday afternoon – he knew that acid was broken down by sunlight and heat and he’d always wrapped his spare tabs in little folded up bits of aluminum foil, so those kids weren’t going to fool him. 

“Do you mind coming to the front of the classroom?” he pointed at the boy whose hand was buried in his lap under the desk, eyes wide and cautious; his female friend to the left of him glared between the boy and Jon and then back again. 

“Me?” he asked, pointing at himself and then looking around him. 

“Both of you,” and he turned his finger towards the girl, a pale-faced thing with badly dyed black hair and huge, messy rings of black eyeliner around her eyes. He watched her push her chair back and walk slowly to the front of the class. The young boy, an almost exact male replica of his female counterpart huffed but came forwards, his hand pushing into his back pocket as he walked. He actually reminded him a bit of Pete - cocky and fucking annoying. Maybe that’s why he’d taken such an instant dislike to the kid – Jon’s cellphone buzzed in his lap.   

“Elias, Louis, move to the back of the class please. You two can sit down the front.” 

As a kid, he’d have hated to have himself as a teacher. Elias and Louis – the two biggest nerds in the class who were constantly asking him ridiculously complex questions and finishing work early and asking about extra credits both rolled their eyes but moved to take over the seats at the back with no fuss. 

The two black-haired students slid down into their desks in front of him and Jon regarded them with a long look until they reopened their textbooks and started writing. He would get whatever they were hiding by the time class was through, he told himself, looking down at his phone and sliding his finger across the screen. 

 _Getting me all hot and bothered now… Need your tongue in my ass, wanna fuck you so hard u wont be able to walk for a week. Wanna see you take my dick all the way down ur throat til u gag and I’m gonna make u come so hard next time we see each other. My dick is so hard for you wish you were here to sort me out xx_  

“Sir?” his attention was quickly snapped up from re-reading Joe’s text to a girl, Abby, with her hand raised. “What’s cytoplasm?” she asked and Jon’s mind was so blank – the only image he had in his head was of him on his hands and knees and Joe behind him, pushing his big dick inside his ass and how good that would feel after all these weeks. He was going to have to go home and finger fuck himself tonight, he thought, trying to blink some reality back into his head and answer her question. 

“Umm. It’s uhh…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, what was your question?” 

“Cytoplasm?” Abby repeated, her fingers twisting a long curl of dark hair around her finger as she smiled at him, her back straight, her chest pushing out to catch his attention. Her head dropped, her eyes fixed on him from under her bangs and her lips parted, her pink tongue licking over her top lip and she was flirting, because Abby was always asking him questions and a few classes ago she’d even hung around after everyone else had left and asked him questions about Chicago, giggling. If only she knew, the poor girl, he thought and then – oh yeah, _cytoplasm_. 

“It’s the part of the cell between the membrane and the nuclear envelope,” he said with a shrug. He probably shouldn’t have got high before arriving to class, he thought, because he really couldn’t be bothered explaining further than that. 

“When are we doing reproduction, _sir_?” Abby’s friend asked and Abby blushed and glared at her, her jaw set angrily on her young face. A few immature giggles rang out from the rows of ninth graders. 

“Mr. Smith does reproduction, not me,” he told them, looking back down into his lap at his cellphone. Ten minutes until the end of class, until the end of his third, miserable week. 

“That’s because you’re a fag.” The insult was spoken under the kid’s breath – the kid who reminded him of Pete, the emo with the stupid hair and the foil-wrapped acid in his pocket, but in the quiet of the classroom, it rang pretty loud. Jon looked at him until he looked back down at his book – a few kids laughed, whether or not they believed him, Jon couldn’t guess, but it didn’t take long for the chatter to build up from the back of the class to the front as he tried to think how to take this kid down. 

“D’you want to come up here and say that?” he asked. The boy wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he shrugged and then scribbled his pen in circles in the top corner of his sheet of paper. “I didn’t think so. I was going to let what I saw you two passing between yourselves slip, seeing as it’s Friday afternoon,” he sighed. He wasn’t. “But not now. Bring it up the front, please.”  
  
The class hushed, their attention drawn to the boy at the front who was shifting in his seat, looking uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The boy shook his head, but Jon could see the blush rising on his cheeks. 

“I’m not stupid – and I don’t stand for language like that in my classroom so you better check yourself before you come back here and start mouthing off at me. I’m just here doing my job and trust me, it’s Friday afternoon, I want to be out of here as much as any of you, so please don’t make both our lives difficult. Come up the front, give me what you’re hiding and then I’ll dismiss the class early. Until then though – we’re all sitting here until you do.” 

The classroom erupted in quiet moans and groans about how unfair that was – _it’s Friday, sir! I’ve gotta be somewhere!_

“Does this look like the face of someone who cares?” He leant back in his chair and sighed. “Your call, dude.” 

Peer pressure. After a few loud jibes from his classmates and a hard nudge in the shoulder from his girlfriend, the boy pushed his chair back moodily and stalked to the front, slapping the folded up aluminum package on Jon’s desk. 

“Thank you,” Jon pressed his hand over it and pulled it into his lap. The boy started to turn to walk back to his seat. “Oh, but before I dismiss you early, you can apologise to me, in front of the class for calling me a fag,” and he shot the kid a pitying look. The look on his face almost made Jon want to laugh – he didn’t know if he looked more embarrassed or resentful for being called on his shit. The classroom laughed and Jon hoped they were laughing at the hateful little shit in front of him. He did have his acid after all, so he wasn’t really too butt-hurt. 

“Sorry.” 

“Thank you!” Jon smiled, sunnily. He suddenly had plans for the weekend. “Class dismissed.” 

His class pushed out of the door, chattering and laughing and hollering as they went and soon Jon was left in silence. He peeled back the folds of foil; inside were three small tabs of LSD and he felt the excitement peak inside of his stomach. The last time he’d done acid had been a few days after Patrick left him – when he’d taken so much that it had been hard to come down. That had been the first night he’d spent at Joe’s place, he remembered and he wondered whether Joe had planned it; inviting him back to his house so they could fuck. He’d have to ask him, he thought, slipping the little package of LSD into the pocket of his pants and gathering his belongings. 

 _TFI Friday!!! You should fly out to Vegas. Want to see you so bad._

Joe’s reply came through once Jon arrived at a still empty staffroom. He sunk down into the couch as he scanned over the text. 

 _Wish I could babe. Would love to fall asleep next to you again._

Jon smiled. Joe’s message made him sad. He imagined what it would be like if they were together, if Joe moved out to Las Vegas to be with him and they got a place together and made their relationship official. Jon imagined coming home to him at the end of the day – all that stupid, couple stuff that he’d enjoyed about being with Patrick – having someone there when he woke up in the morning, talking together about their days, having someone who’d listen to all the little things that annoyed him, someone who’d accept him - without question - for who he was. 

He imagined a dog, maybe a few cats – something that’d make them somewhat of a family and everyone would say what a cool couple they were and at night they’d make love or fuck and as they did, Joe would tell him he loved him with all his heart and when they came, Joe would whisper in his ear that he’d never let him down, never ever. 

“Glad to have another week over?” Jon craned his neck around to look at Ryan, leaning over the couch behind him. Ryan’s face was a lot closer to his than he’d have liked and so he pulled back, but his eyes, for some reason, glanced down at his lips. 

“Fuck, man, am I! Check this out, dude…” Jon patted the space on the couch next to him and Ryan sat down, one long leg folding over his knee, his shoulder pressed up against Jon’s. He lifted his hips up, digging into his pants pocket to pull out his latest confiscated drug and flashed the silver in front of Ryan, opening it up in his hand, away from any other prying eyes. Ryan’s body pushed harder against his. Jon didn’t really have anywhere to move, so he pushed back until Ryan relaxed. 

“Wow. Who’d you take that off?” Ryan asked, voice as intrigued as Jon had ever heard it before. 

“I don’t know the kid’s name – some emo looking fucker, hair like this,” he said, dragging his fingers over his left eye. 

“Oh, I teach him, that’s Kellan – he’s a little shit. You took that off him? Was he high in class?” 

Jon shook his head, folding the foil back in on itself and putting it into his shirt pocket. “Nah. Cocky motherfucker though, huh? I was wondering if uh – you wanted to test it out tonight?” 

“Actually, Jon,” Ryan said, his hand coming barely coming to a rest on Jon’s knee before pulling away. “I was going to invite you over for a few drinks – see if you wanted to come to my house. Spencer’s off out; down the Strip with his fiancée for her mom’s birthday and Brendon; well, Brendon will probably be out too. Maybe you should pop by, keep me company.” 

Jon smiled, weighing up Ryan’s offer. It was one thing going out to a bar and drinking, it was another agreeing to go over Ryan’s empty house and _keep him company._ It was like being a teenager again – sneaking over to some boy’s house while his parents were out of town. Everyone knew what happened in that situation. If he was with Joe – as in, if they were a couple - going to Ryan’s house alone to keep him company would so _not_ be cool, but they weren’t, so Jon nodded and shrugged and said, “Sure!” 

“Great. Come over about seven.” Ryan pushed himself up from the couch. “Bring that shit with you,” he said, and Jon nodded, lamenting his situation. He wasn’t stupid, or naïve – he knew what could happen if he went to Ryan’s place, smoked weed and took acid. Jon’s phone buzzed through with another text message. It was a picture of Joe, blue eyes locked on the camera, brow furrowed, an unhappy pout on his lips. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days  - Jon thought he looked fucking sexy; he’d have liked to push his hair back from around his face and whisper into his ear, _you’re the only man in the entire world that matters to me. Joseph Trohman,_ he wanted to say, _I fucking love you. So fucking much._ Jon read the text that followed the picture. 

 _Sooooo miserable without you lol. Come home. Three weeks? Seems like forever. Fed up pretending all this means nothing._

Joe’s text ended with a small, crying face.


	7. Chapter 7

It took Jon a few moments to realize where he was when he woke up on Saturday morning – which was passed out in his clothes on top of the covers, in bed next to Ryan. A tsunami of thoughts rushed through his head in those confusing few seconds of consciousness and he rolled over onto his back and blinked at the ceiling, ignoring the warmth radiating off Ryan’s body as he attempted to piece together how last night had resulted in him waking up in this situation. 

It wasn’t like they fucked; of that Jon was certain. In fact, as the memories of the previous night started to worm their way into the forefront of his mind, he was pretty certain nothing had gone on between him and Ryan; they’d flirted, sure, but it was all just friendly drunk-talk – perfectly innocent, nothing to worry about, Jon told himself; except – _oh yeah_. Maybe last night hadn’t been totally innocent. He rubbed his hand over his face and down his neck, turning over onto his side to face the wall. 

 _Fuck_. 

He tried to think about what to do. It was still reasonably early and the house was quiet, but he couldn’t cut and run. Everything about Ryan’s house was a minefield; even if he did manage to slip out of bed and out of the room without waking Ryan, there was still the chance he’d bump into Spencer or Brendon – and how would he explain his early morning dash from Ryan’s room to those two, he thought, closing his eyes as he remembered last night. 

They’d taken the acid within fifteen minutes of Jon’s arrival at Ryan’s house. Ryan had a house in the nice area of town, a huge three bedroomed place, with a double garage and palm trees in the front yard. Jon had been impressed with the outside; it was surprising that Ryan had managed to afford such a nice place on a teacher’s salary. The inside looked like a typical bachelor pad – there were few home comforts, the big TV in the open-plan lounge was used solely for video games and Jon had looked around uncomfortably at the dust bunnies in the corners of the room and the dirty plates piled up in the sink – the trash was overflowing and Jon hated to admit, but it irritated him to the point of distraction. 

However, it hadn’t taken long for Ryan to mention the confiscated acid and Jon pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans and opened it up on the breakfast bar in front of him. 

“D’you think it’s any good?” Ryan asked and Jon shrugged that there was only one way to find out, so they’d taken one hit each and after about half an hour, Jon started to feel it. One hit wasn’t his usual dosage; he usually needed at least four or five to start tripping, but it was a nice, easy high – he felt like the room had been tuned into focus, everything seemed clearer, things like the grain of the laminate wood flooring and the dust in the strip of early evening light across the room caught his attention in a way they hadn’t before and he couldn’t help the grin on his face, the feeling that he suddenly knew all there was to know, that he and Ryan had just taken LSD together and for however long their trip lasted, their new reality was safe and problem-free. 

When Ryan had suggested, after it got dark that they sit outside, Jon had agreed and they lay together out on the lawn, talking about school and music and Jon’s favorite restaurants in Chicago and Ryan’s favorite bars in Las Vegas and Jon realized they were close, could feel the heat of Ryan’s body up against his arm, but he didn’t care – not high on acid, not after the first joint. 

They started talking about sex. Ryan asked Jon if he’d ever been with a woman; what his first time with a guy had been like and Jon had never been with a woman and his first time was probably like everyone else’s first time – a painful letdown. Ryan pried for more information, asking who’d been his first, how old he’d been, how long it had been before he’d tried it again. Jon had rolled up a second joint, the weed mixing with the acid, making him feel totally blissful – a head high from the LSD, a body high from the pot. He’d laid next to Ryan and recalled his first time as well as he could, which unfortunately for him, was with surprising clarity.  

It had actually been pretty disastrous. At fifteen, Jon had had this ridiculous crush on the husband of his mom’s best friend. Mark was already in his late forties when Jon was a teenager, but he’d been ruggedly good-looking, with a head of thick, grey-streaked hair, a strong jaw and a good body. He was active and fit and well dressed and had always taken an interest in what Jon was doing in his life. Not having his dad around meant that Mark became the closest Jon had to a father figure and as a youngster, Jon never really thought anything of Mark asking him if he was interested in anyone in school and teasing him about hot women on the TV. When he got a bit older, he would blush at Mark’s intrusive questions about his sexuality when they were alone - about how often he jerked off, if he had wet dreams and if he’d ever stuck anything up his bum, because however embarrassing the older man’s questions were, they stirred something inside him that forced him to be honest about his experience – which, of course, at fifteen was pretty limited. 

It was when Jon started getting high on the weekend with some boys from school that he decided Mark was probably trying to seduce him – he wasn’t stupid and he’d always been aware of his sexuality, so it wasn’t like he was trying to fight off any sudden gay urges. 

Mark had turned up at his mother’s house one weekend and asked if Jon wanted to go see _Black Hawk Down,_ in the theatre. Mark’s wife and twin daughters were out of town and Jon’s mom had thanked him for being so thoughtful and given Jon ten bucks for popcorn. 

They hadn’t gone to the theatre. As soon as they had pulled out of the driveway and driven halfway down the block, Mark’s hand came to a rest on Jon’s knee and he’d asked if he minded and Jon, who’d been way too nervous and way too dumbstruck to say yes, shook his head and let Mark’s hand slide up and between his thighs until he was grazing his hand roughly over Jon’s dick inside his pants. 

Mark had driven the car back to his house and he’d turned to Jon, pushed his hair behind his ear and said, “You won’t tell your mom about this, will you, Jon?”

Jon remembered how hard it had been to swallow and shake his head and he’d ended up following Mark up his front steps, into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

Jon had sat there, the stupid teenage virgin that he was and truly believed Mark when he said he loved him and cared for him and that maybe, if Jon was a good boy and let Mark fuck him, they could go away together that summer, go fishing, camp out and so Jon had lay down on the bed, his heart in his throat, his stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation as Mark stripped him naked, held him down on the bed and fucked him without a condom. 

It had hurt so much that after five minutes of struggle on Mark’s part to get his dick inside him, Jon had told him to stop – he’d even said please when Mark didn’t seem to hear his first request, but even that had gone ignored and Mark had pushed his hand over Jon’s mouth and carried on, until Jon’s eyes were watering and his dick was soft and it hadn’t taken Mark long to come, shooting his load over Jon’s flushed face before sitting back on the bed and telling him to go clean himself up in the bathroom. 

After that, Jon stopped wanting to hang around Mark. Whenever they had to be in the same room together they ignored each other and one day, a few months after their painful sex, Mark had grabbed Jon’s arm and pulled him outside and turned to him, his face ugly with anger and maybe even guilt and he’d said, “You’d better keep your mouth shut about what happened between us,” and Jon had shrugged and mumbled that he’d not told anyone and he had no intentions of doing so and Mark had glared at him and after that he stopped going to the parties Jon’s mom threw and soon, a year, two years, three years passed where Jon didn’t even see the man. 

He’d bumped into him at Thanksgiving a few years back and Mark, then in his late fifties had nodded a curt _hello_ at him and Patrick before disappearing out the front door and making an excuse that he was tired, _I’m not as young as I used to be_ and Jon had to sit there at Thanksgiving dinner and listen to his mom’s comments about how much he’d adored Mark as a kid and _what happened, you two used to get on so well?_

“So, did you ever see the movie?” Ryan asked and Jon had looked over at him with a furrowed brow. “ _Black Hawk Down?_ Did you see it?” 

Jon laughed and shook his head. “Not even to this day, dude,” he replied

Ryan had hummed at Jon’s story but he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t offer any real insight and instead told him about his first time with a guy, when he was nineteen – and it had been equally disastrous, because he’d had to get really drunk to go through with it. Ryan claimed he’d fooled around with boys in his early teenage years, nothing more than a sly fondle or a secret make-out session and then at eighteen he got his first serious girlfriend, a beautiful blonde girl who adored him, Ryan claimed, but she didn’t really satisfy him and it was then that he knew he needed to experiment more with men, but it had taken him a long time to pluck up the courage to do it. 

“I’ve never been that lucky; with men or with women,” Ryan sighed, sucking on the joint Jon passed him. 

“What if you were to settle down; who would it be with; a chick or a dude?” Jon asked, because he thought bisexuals were interesting. He didn’t know if it was possible to like two sexes both equally, he figured there’d be at least some preference over one than the other. He didn’t think it could be a clean split down the middle.  
  
Ryan shrugged. “I try and take people for who they are, not what they are,” he explained and Jon figured that was fair enough, weird, but fair enough. “Do you have any pics of this guy Joe?" Ryan asked and Jon smiled at the mere mention of his name and dug his phone out of his pocket. "So I can check out my competition.” Ryan grinned beside him and nestled closer into Jon’s shoulder, the whole right side of his body now pressed flush against Jon’s on top of the blanket and Jon shifted slightly, but it only resulted in Ryan’s heavy body falling harder against his. 

Jon only had a handful of pictures of Joe; some of them were back from even before he and Patrick broke up – of Joe and William drinking together, another of Joe smoking up against a wall of a club they used to go to – then, bizarrely one of him and Patrick, Patrick’s stupid sunny grin lighting up his face; the smile that always made Jon’s lips turn up in a similar reaction. Jon sighed, scrolling through his pictures quickly – pictures of Patrick from last year. The same time he’d been falling in love with Pete he was still smiling in pictures for Jon. 

“This is a more recent one,” Jon said, clearing his throat and showed Ryan a picture of the two of them out by the Great Salt Lake in Utah and Joe looked so effortlessly hot, Jon thought, gazing over the picture of them at the foot of the lake, Joe’s arm wrapped low around Jon’s waist, squinting against the sunshine and Jon remembered how much he’d wanted to tell him he loved him that day – they’d gone back to the motel after that photo was taken by a passing family from Minneapolis and Joe let him fuck him 

 _You should have said it, you pussy,_ Jon scolded himself, pushing his phone back into his pocket. _You had so many fucking chances – and now he’s back home and you’re out here and the English teacher wants your dick and you should have stayed. You should have stayed back in fucking Chicago._ He felt the sadness rise up in his chest and he closed his eyes, feeling the soft rise and fall of Ryan’s body beside him. They lay together silently for a long while, until Jon felt Ryan sigh and then his hand was on his chest and within a few minutes, his fingers were sliding down his ribs, over Jon’s stomach and down to his belt buckle. 

And that had been it; Ryan’s hand pulling at his belt buckle and Jon unsure whether or not to stop him, because his heart rate was picking up and as Ryan’s hand fumbled his belt open and worked his cock through his palm, his mind was telling him, _No, no, no – this is where you draw the line, dude_ but his dick was crying out for attention and may _be_ , if he closed his eyes and used his imagination, it could feel like Joe, but it didn’t – Ryan and Joe were so dissimilar and Jon had to wrap his fingers around Ryan’s skinny wrist, pull him away and apologise. 

Jon could feel Ryan’s erection pressing into his hip and it would have been easier to simply lay back and accept what was happening, to let Ryan get him hard enough that he could come, but he couldn’t because he didn’t know how hard it’d be to stop further on down the line. What if he let Ryan jerk him off, did that mean they had to make out? Would Ryan expect the favor returned? First handjobs and then blowjobs and then finally _sex_? Best nip it in the bud, he thought, before things get too out of hand. 

“My efforts are all in vain,” Ryan sighed, turning over onto his back, but he was smiling. “You’re quite the dicktease, aren’t you?” 

Jon didn’t mean to be. If his hookup with Joe hadn’t have turned quite so serious, he’d have moved to Vegas with the intention of getting as much dick as possible. He’d have fucked Ryan hard the first night they went out drinking together, he’d have gone out to gay bars just off the Strip and tried to pick-up the hottest guy there. He’d probably be online, accessing cruising sites and meeting up with horny men to get fucked, but none of that seemed like fun now. He’d already met the man who satisfied him like no other, the man he was attracted to physically, emotionally, sexually. He didn’t think he’d find anyone else who matched up to Joe. 

“I’m sorry if you think that,” Jon told Ryan – the night was muggy, but it had cooled considerably since midday, where it had reached a whopping hundred and fifteen degrees. Jon had taken a picture of the temperature in his car on his lunch break and sent it to Joe with the words _fuck this._ Joe had sent a picture of the rain in Chicago and a little smiley face in return. 

“You must really like this guy back in Chicago,” Ryan had pointed out, lying back down next to him, his hands behind his head as they both blinked up at the stars. There weren’t many – but Jon would bet they could drive out twenty or thirty miles and they’d be slap bang in the middle of the desert and if Joe were here, that’s what they’d do – drive out there together, throw a blanket on the hood of the car and watch the stars and hold hands and get high. 

“I do. I love him, man. I’m sorry; it’s just pretty hard for me right now. You know, after my breakup and… _stuff_ ,” he finished lamely, sighing up at the sky. 

“I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on,” Ryan told him, relighting the joint. “Your guy looks like he could probably beat me up.” 

Jon laughed, folding his hands across his chest so he wouldn’t be tempted to run them through Ryan’s hair. “He wouldn’t do something like that,” he assured Ryan softly, at the same time wondering if he would – what Joe was like in a relationship, Jon didn’t know. Patrick had been jealous to the point of distraction at the very beginning of their relationship; he’d been jealous of William and Gabe because they were both tall and slender and fucking dickteases - funnily enough though, never of Joe and Jon had spent hours convincing him that no one else mattered, because no one else did and after a year or so, Patrick relaxed around Jon’s friends. He stopped complaining about him hanging out alone with William. Jon always thought it was because he’d grown to trust him, but he probably just stopped caring. 

He wondered what Joe would be like as a boyfriend; whether or not he’d get jealous of someone like Ryan and he couldn’t imagine it and instead pictured the three of them in bed together – Joe behind him fucking his ass, his lips around Ryan’s cock, Joe directing his movements with his hand in the back of his hair and _fuck_ – last night he’d made the excuse of needing the bathroom so Ryan wouldn’t spot the return of his semi. 

This morning, lying fully clothed next to the man, that fantasy from last night returned and so did his erection, picturing the scene behind his eyelids. He definitely wanted Joe there, that was a given and he closed his eyes and breathed a sigh as he felt his dick stiffen in his pants – Joe could fuck him from behind, Jon on his hands and knees over Ryan’s cock and they’d fucking spit-roast him right here, in Ryan’s bed, Ryan’s dick down his throat, Joe’s hands fisted in his hair, his huge dick filling his ass, fucking him rough and hard and he’d come inside him, pulling out to dip his mouth between his cheeks and lick him clean while Ryan fucked his mouth and emptied his load and then he could come and he’d give his orgasm to Joe and _fucking hell…_ He shifted on top of the mattress, his dick fully hard at the thought that had just exploded in his head and he pressed his palm against the zipper of his jeans, aching for release. 

He felt Ryan shift beside him and caught his breath, closing his eyes in case he needed to pretend he was asleep. He waited a minute – and then another, just to be safe. Ryan hadn’t woken up and he slipped quietly from the bed and stood up, glancing around the room. _Phone, wallet, keys…_ His phone was in his pocket, dead and he was pretty sure his keys were downstairs in the living room… He wasn’t going to cut and run, he told himself – maybe just go to the bathroom and then he’d come back, nudge Ryan awake and make his excuses to leave, because they still had to work together – despite Jon’s stupid fantasies, he had to remain cordial, so that’s what he decided he’d do – tiptoe through the house, gather his belongings, go take a piss and then creep back to say goodbye. He padded to the door, listening for any noises that could be coming from the hallway – nothing. All was quiet. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob of Ryan’s door and pulled it open slowly, poking his head around the corner before stepping out. He looked right and then left and then drew back, heart thumping hard in his chest because _fucking fuck –_ Brendon; _right there,_ walking towards him down the hall. 

“Fuck,” he spat silently, faltering between stepping back into the room and closing the door and just saying _fuck it,_ and greeting the man with a nod, but it was too late by the time Brendon passed him in the doorway, Jon caught like a deer in headlights as Brendon walked past him, glancing into the room at a half-naked Ryan Ross asleep on his bed, his eyebrows knotted, his forehead furrowed. 

“Uh. Hi?” Brendon said, walking a few more steps before stopping, turning around to face him and saying, “I was uh… just about to make – coffee. If you want any.” 

“Hmm. Thanks.” Jon could feel the blush on his cheeks, rising high on his face as Brendon looked at him for an awkward second before he shook his head, turned on his heel and continued down the hallway to the stairs. 

 _Fuck, fuck. Fuck._ Jon took a deep breath and turned back towards the bed when he heard movement from Ryan behind him. 

Ryan’s eyes blinked sleepily up towards the door, his mouth turned into that incredible smile he’d only graced Jon with twice before, at the bar last week. 

“Oops,” he whispered, biting his lip. “Busted.”


	8. Chapter 8

Jon stood at the foot of the stairs and took a breath, listening to the conversation coming out of the kitchen – maybe if Brendon was in there alone he’d go in there and explain the situation. _I know what it looks like, but trust me,_ he could say – because they _hadn’t_ done anything; not in bed at least, Jon had woken up fully clothed after all, but Jon could hear Spencer’s voice explaining something stupid and insignificant about the restaurant he and Haley had gone to last night for her mother’s birthday and then he heard female laughter and he pushed his hand through his hair, took a deep breath and stepped through the door into the kitchen. 

“Jon?” Spencer was the first one to speak, his mouth turned up into a surprised little smile and Jon flushed red and waved, catching Brendon’s dark eyes quickly before watching him take a sip of coffee, his expression hard. “What are you doing here?” 

“What’s up, Spence?” Jon said with a sigh. “Uh. Ryan and I hung out last night. I was pretty drunk – too drunk to drive back home, so.” 

“Oh,” Spencer frowned and Jon shrugged.

 _Yeah, too drunk to drive home, so I just slept in Ryan's bed - and by the way, I'm gay and Ryan's some kind of closet bisexual, but nothing happened. Trust me._  He knew that wasn't at all believable and the kitchen fell into an awkwardly long silence.

“Coffee’s in the pot. I didn’t know if you wanted milk or sugar or what, so…” Brendon spoke, ignoring his gaze. “Is Ryan awake yet?” 

“I don’t know,” Jon lied defensively. He was awake. Jon had spent ten minutes freaking out in Ryan's bedroom, while Ryan simply lay back on his bed, looking unfazed by the whole scenario.  _Fuck,_ he just wanted the ground to swallow him up from the middle of the kitchen. _You certainly got what you deserved after last night, Jon Walker,_ he scolded himself. _Serves you right for being such a fucking dicktease, this does. Enjoy that coffee with a slice of mortification, you idiot._ He bit his lip, crossing the kitchen to the coffeepot and pouring it into a mug that was out on the counter. He took a sip and looked up from his coffee to see three sets of eyes staring at him. 

“I’m Haley,” the girl sat up close next to Spencer said, offering her hand. She was pretty – she had a friendly, warm smile and kind eyes. Jon had always imagined her to be a sour little bitch, but she was pretty cute, he thought, taking her hand and shaking it. 

“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s great to finally meet you; now I can put a face to the name. Congratulations – on bagging this guy,” he said, nodding at Spencer and it wasn’t like he meant anything by it, but Brendon rolled his eyes and took a long hard look at Jon over the rim of his coffee mug. 

Haley laughed, glancing over at Spencer with nothing but love in her eyes. “Oh, he’s always on about you too. It’s like a little crush,” she smiled, looking back over at Jon. “It’s pretty cute, actually.” 

Brendon snorted, catching all their attentions and then left the kitchen; thank fucking _god_ – maybe he’d run into Ryan and Ryan could give the perfectly reasonable explanation as to why Jon, the gay science teacher, was slipping out of his bedroom early this morning. The three of them fell into silence and Jon couldn’t think of anything to say _._  

“So, umm, when’s the wedding, d’you have a date planned?” he asked, taking a big gulp of coffee. Haley perked up considerably, straightening up on the stool in front of the breakfast bar and she smiled happily as she explained their plans. Jon had heard it all before from Spencer, but he smiled and nodded and asked questions until Ryan shuffled into the kitchen, around ten minutes later, bare feet and stupid tight pants and a fucking ridiculous floral shirt, top buttons undone to reveal a slice of smooth, pale skin. Jon averted his eyes. 

“Well, I should uh – I should get going,” Jon said, tipping the last few mouthfuls of coffee into the sink and rinsing his cup. When he turned back, Ryan was looking at him – a stupid look a bemusement on his face and Jon swallowed. He wondered if Spencer and Haley got it – he wondered if they were looking at him and Ryan and judging them silently in their heads. Spencer was surely not _that_ naïve and Haley seemed like a smart girl – they knew, or they suspected, at least. Jon shifted on his feet. 

“We’re going down to Fremont Street tonight,” Haley piped up, her voice light and sunny and natural – not at all forced or awkward like Jon’s. “Have you been before? Spencer says you’re from Chicago. It’s one of the coolest things out here, a Vegas institution! It’s so much fun,” she enthused and Jon caught Spencer eyeing him, warily and fuck – _he knew_. 

“I’ve not been, no. It’s right by where I live too, so. Sure. I’ll come along.” 

“That’s cool! Ryan?” Haley turned her attention to Ryan, leaning up against the kitchen counter. 

He shrugged one shoulder, looking like he really couldn’t care less, but then he said, “alright.” 

“Oh, yay!” Haley clapped her hands and gripped Spencer’s shoulder. “I’m so excited!” she beamed over at Jon. “Ryan never agrees to come out with us. We’ll have fun,” she promised and Jon managed a smile, before he made his excuses that he had things to do at home and that he’d meet them down on Fremont Street at five. 

“It’s been great meeting you, Haley,” he said, shaking her hand as she leaned in to peck his cheek. He gave an unusually quiet Spencer a pat on his shoulder and nodded an awkward goodbye at Ryan. “Thanks for letting me stay,” he said and Ryan shrugged. 

“Any time, man. Any time. I’ll see you to the door,” he said, after a pause. 

“Well, that was… awkward,” Jon mumbled, as they stepped out of the front doorway together and into the early morning desert heat. It was still early, probably not even eight o’clock, but it was hot and dry and uncomfortable as Jon glanced up and down the street at the neatly kept yards and big, sprawling suburban houses. 

“That’s almost a double date later, huh?” Ryan pointed out, squinting his eyes against the harsh morning sunlight. Jon laughed and scratched his head. “I’m kidding.” Ryan knocked his fist softly into Jon’s shoulder. “Your guy Joe must be really awesome. He’s lucky,” Ryan said, focusing his attention behind Jon’s shoulders, out into the street. “Sorry. About last night – about… you know? This morning.” Ryan’s unwavering confidence seemed compromised for the first time since Jon had met him. “We can still hang out; be friends.” 

It was kind of endearing. Jon nodded and gave Ryan’s arm a friendly squeeze. “I’d like that.” Ryan was cool. He’d really like it if he managed to pump the breaks on the flirting and the handjobs though, Jon thought. 

“I’ll talk to Brendon.” 

“Cool,” Jon smiled. “Thanks.” 

“’S’alright.” 

“So. I guess I’ll see you later,” Jon said after a pause. “What’s this Fremont Experience thing like, anyway, is it tight?” 

“It’s pretty trippy. We should have saved that acid for tonight though, man, I’m telling you – _and_ it’s just a hop, skip and a jump back to your ghetto-ass apartment. Maybe I can come over early, smoke up before we join the Happy Couple.” Ryan raised an expectant eyebrow. “No funny business, I swear. I’ll behave.” 

“Yeah?” Jon laughed, considering Ryan’s offer. “Okay. Yeah, come over. I’ll be there.” 

“Sweet.” Ryan rolled on his heels and then stepped into the shade under the awning of the front door. “I’ll see you.” 

Jon walked to his car and checked his phone again – still dead; he kept forgetting. He looked back at the house, where Ryan was still stood, shoulder against the door frame, hips angled and Jon imagined gripping them from behind as he fucked him - only for a second, but long enough to make his stomach twist. Jon gave a small smile and a wave and started the ignition. As soon as he got home, he was going to climb in the shower and jerk off. 

When he did eventually arrive home, after turning off the freeway at the wrong exit, he plugged his phone in to charge, took his clothes off and lay down on his bed. He sighed up at the ceiling, slipping his hand under his pillow to retrieve Joe’s forgotten Joy Division shirt – it didn’t smell like him anymore; not unless he pressed the unfolded material over his face and took deep breaths through his nose; then he could faintly smell him, smoke and laundry detergent. 

Jon grabbed his dick and jerked off. He wasn’t really sure whose face he thought of right before he came. 


	9. Chapter 9

It was Joe’s birthday weekend and Jon’s stomach was twisting in knots. He’d never been the old fashioned romantic – flowers and chocolates and well-planned evenings out had never been his forte and so maybe this was the most romantic thing he’d ever done for a guy before. It had been half his idea, half Ryan’s and he’d made a mental note never to go to this much trouble to surprise anyone ever again, because his wallet - and his nerves - were both suffering. 

It was the last weekend of August and Jon had been living in Las Vegas for a month and a half – the heat was insufferable. He could deal with temperatures under ninety five, but throughout the months of July and August, those had been virtually non-existent, even at night. 

Brendon hadn’t mentioned the awkward morning run-in they’d had a few weeks ago and Ryan, good to his word had kept his hands to himself since their acid trip out in his back yard. One drunken kiss and a fondle weeks ago hardly counted for anything and instead, he and Ryan had bonded over their similar taste in music, their cocaine stories, their mutual dislike for teaching and of course, the fact that they both liked dick. 

Since their make out session over a month ago, they’d made that gay dive bar their local haunt and every Friday night they met there and drank and climbed into separate cabs back to their separate beds at the end of the night. Only once had Ryan spent the night at Jon’s - on the couch, fully clothed. 

They flirted with each other, but it was more teasing than anything serious. Sometimes it was difficult not to let their attraction towards each other show during the school week. Jon thought Ryan was attractive, especially when he smiled and laughed, but that’s all there was to it. Harmless flirting, Jon told himself, over and over and over. Not like it’s going to lead to anything, he reminded himself when Ryan sat right up next to him in the booth at the bar, talking into his ear so he could be heard over the music from the jukebox. 

Jon didn’t know if Ryan felt the same way or if he was just incredibly restrained regarding what Brendon had once flippantly called _sexual tension_ , but he didn’t care what Brendon thought, or what Spencer seemed to make of their friendship, because that’s all it was. Maybe he would have acted on it – the sexual tension; if he wasn’t so head-over-heels in love with Joe, because the more time out of school they spent together, the more Ryan relaxed around him. 

In the bar on Friday nights and out on Ryan’s porch when he had the house to himself, Ryan was a totally different man to who he pretended to be in school. With Jon, he laughed more, sometimes to the point of knee slapping and doubling over. His posture would relax, his joints seemed to soften and he broke into smiles way more generously than he did in the staffroom. After a few weeks, Jon had grown quite fond of him, but by the time he’d decided to go back to Chicago for Joe’s birthday, the attraction was strictly platonic. 

Spencer was either too naïve for his own good or was just too polite to question their friendship. He too, had also chosen not to mention the fact that a few weeks ago, Jon had been caught sneaking out of Ryan’s room in the early hours of Saturday morning. 

During their trip to the Fremont Street Experience later that same day, Spencer had innocently started calling it a _bromance_ and after Spencer and Haley made their excuses to leave a little before midnight, Jon and Ryan had chosen to go back to Cosmo’s and they’d both laughed at just how goddamn naïve Spencer actually was. 

“I swear to god, Spencer himself has _seen_ guys leaving my bedroom some mornings and just thinks I meet them in bars and ask if they want to come back and sleep on my bedroom floor,” Ryan laughed, his hand reaching over the table to touch Jon’s wrist, and Ryan was handsome when he laughed, Jon could admit that now with little shame. 

They teased each other on Friday nights sometimes to the point where Jon knew he wouldn’t refuse if Ryan made an attempt to kiss him, but he never did and for that Jon was reasonably thankful. 

Brendon humored them. Sometimes he’d make sarcastic remarks under his breath about what he saw that Saturday morning and _uh, people are going to get the wrong idea,_ Brendon had apparently told Ryan. Ryan's excuse had been that Jon had gotten so high off the acid that he’d crashed out, fully clothed in Ryan’s bed. Ryan had tried to sleep on the couch, but the sitting room was too warm and Brendon had come in from the casinos drunk at 5AM and Ryan said that he’d just thought _fuck this_ and gone to lay down in his own bed. Jon had been unmovable – he was _that_ high, he’d told Brendon. Jon hadn’t really been too pleased with it – after all, he was not a person who got that high off one tab of acid, but apparently he was, because Ryan, despite what Brendon probably believed, was pretty much telling the truth. He just didn’t want Brendon thinking he couldn’t handle his drugs. 

They talked about sex. Ryan regaled him with stories about his past lovers – male and female and Jon listened and imagined Ryan getting fucked in the back seat of his car on his twenty-first birthday and he imagined Ryan getting his dick sucked by an old queer against the wall of the alley at the side of a bar.  

Jon answered various questions that Ryan directed his way. Jon was the more practiced of the two. Ryan had slept with only three men since his first time at nineteen and it had only been the last guy who’d made it feel any good and this last guy, Ryan sighed, shaking his head, _won’t even admit he’s bi; let alone gay._  

Jon said it sounded like Ryan needed a good fuck from someone who knew what he was doing and Ryan had raised his eyebrows at Jon and smirked, face dark in the low light of the bar. He’d said, “Oh, really, Mr. Walker? Do you know anyone?” 

Jon had smiled around his cigarette, taking a deep, purposeful drag before he shrugged, exhaled his smoke and replied; “maybe.” 

At that, Ryan shook his head, his lips battling a smile. “How did your ex keep tabs on you?” he laughed. “You’re a ridiculous flirt.” 

Ryan knew all about Patrick. Jon had sat there one evening and scrolled through the photos on his phone, Ryan looking over his shoulder and they were all of him and Patrick smiling or Patrick giving him an unamused look while driving, or eating or sat in the rain one day last winter at the train station. 

“You totally have to delete all these photos of your ex-boyfriend, dude,” Ryan had told him and Jon had scrolled through a few more pictures – Patrick with his mom on Thanksgiving, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, huge, happy grins on each of their faces. He’d been fucking Pete at that time, Jon thought, clicking his phone off and pushing it back into his pocket. It wasn't like he was angry anymore at the demise of his relationship with Patrick - he didn't lie awake at night thinking about it, but sometimes,  _sometimes_ he missed him - or more so the familiarity that came with being with someone for so long. Even with Joe he'd have to start over; adjust his life around someone else, accept all their annoying little traits and try and suss out if the positive ones outweighed the negative. 

He also knew all about Joe – and had pretty accurately described Jon’s feelings for him one night about a fortnight ago. 

“The way I see it,” and Ryan took a sip of his vodka and soda, because it was already that part of the night where they’d swapped their beers for liquor. “You’re totally crazy about this guy, but you don’t think your feelings are valid because you started to feel that way so soon after you and your ex broke up – so, I mean, everyone’s going to think it’s a rebound, that it’s too soon, that it won’t last because, well - you were in a relationship for six years; a few weeks later you can’t rightly be starting another one. Right?” 

Jon hummed, because he _was_ right. Somehow – between the beers and the live band playing too loudly in the far corner of the bar, Ryan was right – and it had never really made sense to him before, but it sure did now.  

“I’m going to go back to Chicago for his birthday,” Jon had shouted in Ryan’s ear. “It’s in a few weeks. I was thinking about surprising him.” 

That part had been Jon’s idea, and that part alone – all the other stuff had been Ryan’s suggestion – the hotel room, the dinner reservation at one of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago, a good Scotch that had set Jon back almost a hundred dollars at McCarran International – oh, and that ridiculous Clone-A-Willy molding kit he’d bought from a sex shop back in Vegas. He planned on buying the best pot Travis could recommend and _fucking hell,_ waiting outside the arrivals terminal of O’Hare airport, waiting for William, he really hoped tonight all went to plan. 

This was all too stressful, returning back to Chicago to surprise Joe on his birthday – Joe had told him over the phone last week; _well, get fucked then, if you can’t be bothered to come visit me – fuck you,_ after Jon had lied that he just couldn’t afford it, that school was too hectic for him to disappear for the weekend, that flights were too expensive – all the while, the hotel room had already been booked, reservations at the restaurant made and William informed about his arrival, early on Friday evening and that he was not, under any circumstances, to ruin the surprise. 

 _God,_ he was almost in a panic. _Where the fuck was William?_ Chicago was chilly this evening - he pulled his coat a little tighter around his body and then spotted William’s car rounding the corner. He took a step towards the curb and raised his hand in a small wave of acknowledgement. 

He’d never been so nervous in his entire life. He felt like it was way too much – all this, the restaurant and the hotel room and the fact that he was totally planning on telling Joe he loved him after dinner or maybe in bed later tonight. And that was it; the thing keeping him reasonably sane – the fact that in a few hours, he’d be in bed with Joe and whichever way the evening ended, either with him getting fucked hard in the hotel bed, or both of them wrapped around each other and _making love,_ he would definitely wake up next to him tomorrow morning having admitted he loved him, that he was totally and utterly crazy about him - and _that_ was the whole reason he was doing this. 

“Sorry I’m late!” William called over his shoulder, as Jon pulled the back door open, put his bags on the backseat and then climbed into the front. “Traffic,” he smiled, leaning around to wrap his long arm around Jon’s neck and pull him in for a hug, patting his back. “Good to see you again, man. How’s Las Vegas?” 

“Hot,” Jon replied stoically. “Does Joe suspect anything?” 

William shook his head slowly as they waited for an airport shuttle to pull out in front of them. He looked proud that he’d managed to keep Jon’s return to Chicago a secret for all of a fortnight. His hair was a little longer than Jon remembered it being last time they’d seen each other. It had only been seven weeks – it felt like a fucking lifetime ago. 

“I think he was a little pissed you said you weren’t coming home,” William pointed out. “He’s only complained about it for the last, like, week and a half, dude.” 

“Yeah, well, I hope he appreciates all the effort I’ve gone to this weekend.” 

It felt good to be back, to be inhaling something other than dry desert heat, to be close to a vast body of water, rather than all those man-made lakes and canals and fountains back in Las Vegas. 

“So. You and him?” William looked over at him, his eyebrows raised, a half smile pulling at his lips. “Something serious in the works?” 

Jon sighed. Whatever he said to William would be passed on to Gabe, would be passed on to Joe and everyone else they knew. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know,” he said lightly, as if he didn’t care, as if he was just rolling with the punches, taking what he could get. 

“You realize that Gabe and I have been betting since April that you two would eventually hook up? I’ve got fifty bucks riding on this, so just fucking make it official, for my sake.” 

Jon forced a smile. The plan for the night had been that William and Gabe were taking Joe out for a few quiet drinks. The real party was happening tomorrow night – where there would probably be coke or speed or E, Joe had claimed, one final attempt to coax Jon back to Chicago in time to celebrate his birthday. Joe apparently had no idea. Jon had sent a cautious text while waiting for William outside the airport. 

 _Enjoy the weekend. Have fun!_ he wrote, taking a well-earned drag of his cigarette. 

 _Yeah, yeah. Whatevz,_ had been Joe’s moody reply a few minutes later. He hoped he wasn’t too pissed that it’d ruin their evening. 

“He was like, super bummed out for about two weeks after he came home from Vegas,” William pointed out as they turned onto the freeway. Jon smiled. That was good. “You must like him – all this effort you’ve gone to for him. This is like a script from a straight-up romantic movie. I didn’t even know you had it in you.” 

“Yeah. Me neither,” Jon commented, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket. _There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,_ Joe had told him stood in the airport in Las Vegas, saying their goodbyes. _Same_ , Jon could agree now. He just hoped Joe’s sentiments hadn’t changed in the six weeks since they’d last seen each other.

 

* * *

 

Jon shifted his weight from his right foot to his left and then back again – what if Joe told him to fuck off? What if he had someone there with him – _fuck_ , what if it was Cooper? What if he’d totally changed his mind since leaving him in Las Vegas – what if all those text messages and phone calls were just sent in pity? _No_ , Jon told himself and then, _get yourself the fuck together, Jonathan Walker – you are a twenty-seven year old_ man _, stop acting like a fucking teenager._ He tried to console himself, reassure himself that this reunion would be perfect – romance and soft lighting, he repeated in his head.

He took a deep breath when he saw the hallway lights switch on behind the frosted glass semi-circle at the top of Joe’s front door and tried to steady his nerves. That’s what it was, just nerves; butterflies - excitement and terror mixing together in his stomach to make him feel like he was going to throw up. He wished he’d taken a hit from the joint the boys were passing around when he went to pick up some weed from Travis. 

 _It’s going to be cool_ , he assured himself, his shoulder starting to hurt under the weight of his travel bag. _It’s going to be so totally cool. Remember all that shit Joe said in bed that first night back in Vegas? All those soppy, romantic texts late at night? Yeah. It’s going to be cool._

Jon closed his eyes briefly, trying to organize his jumbled thoughts. He chewed the inside of his lip and then the door opened and light from the hallway shone on his face and he was greeted with warmth and the smell of pot and fucking hell - _him._

Joe looked at him, almost in bewilderment for a few moments and so Jon raised his eyebrows and smiled. 

“Surprise!” he sing-songed. 

Joe’s eyes widened and then he seemed to shake the shock out of his expression and glanced around behind Jon on the steps. 

“Dude!” he exclaimed. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Happy birthday,” he replied as a ways of explanation. “Are you surprised?” 

Joe shook his head in disbelief. “Surprised? Fuck me! Come here. What the fuck?” Joe pulled him into a crushing hug. “You said you couldn’t afford it.” 

“I wanted to surprise you. Do something nice…” 

“Dude, Bill and Gabe and I are meeting for drinks in like, an hour. I’m – _fuck_ ,” he swore, pulling away from the embrace. His plan had worked like a charm. “Come in. Jesus.” 

Jon stepped over the threshold of Joe’s front door and they stared at each other for a brief moment. Joe looked so fucking good, Jon thought, his hair slightly longer around his ears and a day-or-two old stubble on his cheeks, a dark denim shirt and those pants – _fuck._ He was barefoot. Jon smiled. 

“Does anyone else know you’re here?” Joe asked. He hung on the bannister and just looked right into his eyes and Jon knew. Tonight’s the night. Nothing had changed. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Everyone. Bill picked me up at the airport. We’re going for a meal – you and I. I booked us a hotel.” 

“Fuck,” Joe whispered. “Fuck!” he shook his head. “Fuck. You got me. I had no idea.” Joe stepped toward him, his hand falling on Jon’s shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s so fucking good to see you again,” he said, his arms wrapping tight around him and his nose turning in to inhale the hair behind Jon’s ear. “I was actually pretty pissed you couldn’t make it,” he chuckled and Jon laughed. He finally felt like he was home, stood in Joe’s hallway, tight in his embrace. “Where’re we going for dinner?” he asked, his head pulling back, but his arms still wrapped around Jon’s shoulders. “Is it Applebee’s? It better be Applebee’s.” 

Jon laughed, dipping his head forward into Joe’s chest. _Fuck,_ he could have said it right then. The words almost slipped out of his mouth he felt so relaxed in Joe’s presence. 

“We’ve got reservations at eight. Some place nice. Nicer than Applebee’s, anyway,” Jon’s hands pushed up into Joe’s hair and pulled his head down gently. This is what he’d been waiting for, for weeks. Their lips were an inch apart. Jon could feel his heart pumping inside his chest, Joe’s fingers trailed down his back, over his ass and pulled them together. “Next time though I’ll remember your poor taste in chain restaurants. Applebee’s for your thirtieth,” he smiled. Joe laughed, his eyes creasing up at the edges. 

“You didn’t have to do any of this,” he told him quietly, but he was still smiling. Jon closed his eyes and soon felt the soft press of Joe’s lips against his. He still tasted the same. “I’m so fucking happy to see you, you wouldn’t believe,” Joe mumbled when he pulled away. “God. Wow… I can’t believe you’re here.” He leant in for another kiss, this time pushing his tongue inside Jon’s mouth, his hands both moving from his hips, up around his back and around his neck. The kiss grew more heated, deeper, more desperate. Jon could feel Joe’s erection forming underneath those tight pants of his and he pushed against him, needing that contact, frantic for Joe’s touch and his body. It had been a dull, undeniable ache somewhere between his stomach and his heart for the past six weeks and now it was almost painful. He couldn’t ignore it, even if he wanted to, he was way too far gone for that. 

“Baby, I’ve missed you.” He heard the almost-whine in Joe’s voice and let out a shaky sigh. “So much,” he continued, planting another wet kiss on his lips. “So, so fucking much,” and there it was – the break in Joe’s voice. _Fuck._ Joe rested his forehead on his, blinking his blue eyes as if to clear them and then he took Jon’s hand, pulled him up the stairs and into his bedroom. The sheets smelt like a mixture of fresh laundry detergent and the unmistakable scent of Joe.

Jon had never felt more in love than he did when Joe pulled his shirt off and lay down next to him on the bed. 


	10. Chapter 10

“This is like, way, _way_ nicer than anything I could ever have imagined,” Joe told him as they sat down at the restaurant - an intimate little Italian that had won awards and rave reviews since it opened. It was reasonably romantic, Jon thought, looking around, but not suffocatingly so. The servers were all wearing white shirts and black ties and tonight they were being looked after by an attractive young woman, who’d initially started flirting with them, but by the time she’d returned to the table with a bottle of house red, seemed to have caught onto the situation, because Jon, for one, couldn’t take his eyes off Joe. 

“Better than Applebee’s then?”

Joe laughed, leaning forward in his chair. “This place shits all over Applebee’s, dude,” he said and then his hand was on top of Jon’s and it had always been a force of habit – but Jon glanced around the room, nervously. No one was paying them any mind. He turned his attention back to Joe. “You look _very_ handsome tonight,” Joe told him, his thumb running over his knuckles. 

 _Good_ , Jon thought. He’d made an effort. It was all for him. Every single minute of it was all for Joe. “Thanks. You too – I should have said that when I first saw you, but – heat of the moment.” 

 _God, things were so easy between them._ Jon could get used to this – he and Joe, being like this together. _Being_ together. Sat with his hand in Joe’s, he felt like he’d never even left. Las Vegas was so far away and he knew it was going to be a huge disappointment to go back to on Sunday evening. He thought about Ryan; about how often they’d been so close to kissing, about how, after a few drinks on Friday nights, he wanted to take him back to his apartment, push him down on the mattress and fuck him – not now. Now the only man he could imagine being with was right in front of him. No one else mattered – not Ryan or Patrick or Pete. Just Joe. 

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before, you know that, right?” Joe asked, and he let his hand go to take a sip of wine and pull apart a bread roll. 

“Shut up.” Jon could feel the blush rising high on his cheeks. “I bet you’ve got boys falling head over heels trying to impress you all the time.” By boys he meant Cooper and by all the time he was hoping for reassurance that this wasn’t the case anymore. He didn’t want to feel jealous over some barely legal youngster who Joe was meant to be mentoring, not fucking. 

“I’m serious,” and Joe looked at him with an incredibly serious look on his face. “No one. It means a lot, man. It does.” Joe finished buttering his roll and Jon watched as he took a bite and opened his mouth to speak. “Why d’you go to all this effort?” 

 _Because I love you._

“I don’t know,” he said instead. “A thank you – you know; for everything you did for me.” _Plus, I love you, you fucking asshole, stop playing dumb._

“Anyone would think you were trying to seduce me,” Joe said, his eyebrows rising suggestively, taking another sip of wine. "Fancy restaurant, hotel room." 

“Haven’t I already?” Jon laughed, knocking Joe’s boot under the table with his foot. Joe smiled, looking down at the half eaten bread roll on his plate. The tension was bubbling. He wondered when Patrick stopped making him feel like this. Or when he’d stopped making Patrick feel this way and when Pete took over. 

“I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel and _fuck you,_ ” Joe mouthed the words at him and they burned in his chest, his stomach dropping as if he was in an elevator. His balls felt it too, right at the base of his dick. 

They hadn’t fucked when Joe had led him upstairs earlier on. Joe hadn’t even let him come, despite the fact that Jon had given him a blowjob in the position that was quickly becoming apparent was Joe’s favorite – Jon flat on his back on the mattress, Joe’s knees either side of his head with his dick in his mouth. Joe claimed he liked the control it gave him and Jon liked the fact that he could simultaneously suck Joe off, finger his asshole and jerk his own dick all at the same time. 

Joe claimed that the blowjob was _the best one yet_ and Jon swallowed his come. Joe claimed that he looked so hot; _so, so hot_ , but had knocked Jon’s hand away from his dick a few seconds later. 

“Don’t come yet. I want you fiending for it by the time we finish dinner,” he told him and Jon had groaned and twisted on top of the bed sheets. “I’ll make it so good for you later, I swear.” Joe kissed him, but he was such a fucking tease. If only he knew how much Jon was already craving release, he certainly wouldn’t be denying him orgasm right now. Jon actually thought it was pretty unfair, but it was Joe’s birthday and he was allowed to call the shots tonight. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Jon cleared his throat and said. He could feel Joe’s breathing growing heavy as they lay together on top of the bed covers. He could still taste Joe’s come on the back of his tongue. “Dinner’s at eight.” 

Joe smoothed his hair down, pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “I’ve missed this.” 

“What, being an asshole, not letting me come?” he bit, closing his eyes as soon as Joe smiled. They kissed; soft, gentle kisses as Joe’s hands held his face. 

“You’ll thank me later. I missed _this_. You. Here. I want you to move back to Chicago.”

Joe had spoken his words as if he were giving Jon an ultimatum. Jon forced a laugh and ran his hand over the back of Joe’s head, twisting a loose curl around his finger. “I wish I could,” he said softly. “I’ve got a job, though.” 

“Fuck your job. You hate your job. Move back home, move in with me. I know it’s what you want.” Joe’s arms had wrapped around him, pulling him down in the bed. “Dude, I fucking… I lo- I’d love it if you moved back…” 

Jon screwed his eyes closed tightly and pressed his face into Joe’s chest. He’d been so close to saying it, Jon was certain. Three syllables, three words, eight letters – it was nothing and everything and simultaneously the worst and the best feeling. 

They had lay together for a few more minutes, until Jon rallied himself up enough to pull away from Joe’s arms and put his clothes back on. 

“So, Bill knew all about you coming home?” Joe had asked him after they ordered their food. “I can’t believe he managed to keep it secret, I’ve been bitching about you not coming back for the past two weeks,” he said. “Thought you might have met someone else,” and he raised his eyebrows to push his point forward. 

Jon shook his head as he took a sip of wine. Ryan didn’t count, because week after week, Jon refused his advances past anything more than a hard round of drunken flirting and it wasn’t that he couldn’t have fucked Ryan, because he definitely could have, but he didn’t, because whatever he had with Joe felt way too important to throw away on a couple of frustrated kisses. 

“Are there any cute guys back in Vegas then?” Joe asked. “Any hot teachers caught your eye yet?” 

“No,” Jon scoffed. “Anyway, how’s work? Seen anything of Cooper lately?” His feeble attempts to change the subject fell flat. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d brought up Cooper’s name on what was meant to be a perfect, romantic evening. Probably because he wanted Joe to tell him that he’d cut all ties with the boy and that he hadn’t seen him for weeks. Joe waved Jon’s question off. 

“Work sucks,” he said with a shrug. “Same old same old. The weekends aren’t even fun anymore, because you’re not here and you know, I go out with Bill and Gabe, but they’re basically a couple, so… it kinda sucks, dude. They tease me about you,” he added, after a pause. “You know they call you my Boyfriend?” 

Jon smiled and shook his head. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Yeah. Gabe thinks it’s hilarious.” Joe looked around the room. “And I’m all; _he’s not my boyfriend, bro, give it a rest –_ because you’re _not._ Are you?” 

Jon knew what his answer would be if he was in some romantic movie. _I could be._ He wasn’t in a movie though and his mind flew into overdrive trying to think of something light-hearted and witty to come back with. 

“I guess the whole long-distance thing makes that sort of hard,” he told Joe, his answer neither light-hearted or witty. He struggled to look him in the eyes, instead focusing on Joe's almost empty glass of wine on the table in front of him, his fingers gently wrapped around the stem. “I’ve never done long-distance _anything_ before.” When he looked up, Joe was looking at him. 

“You are so fucking hard to read,” he told him, shaking his head. 

“What’s that meant to mean?” Jon almost snapped and finished off the last of his own wine. 

“It means that you’re hard to read – unless we’re in bed that is; then you’re like an open book. It seems like the only time you’re totally honest with me is right after you come and even then I sometimes feel like you’re holding back. You know, the long-distance thing,” Joe said, his eyes scanning the room behind Jon’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t find it hard to be faithful to you, in case that’s what you’re worried about; you know, after what happened with Patrick.” 

“I don’t worry about that,” Jon said, even though he kind of did. “It’s just, my options are limited right now, I-” Jon’s explanation was cut short by the return of their server, smiling and presenting them with their meals and it was a minute or two before she disappeared, after refilling their glasses with wine and topping up their water and then the moment seemed to have passed while they complimented their meals and drank quickly and ordered another bottle of the house red when the waitress came back to check on them. 

By the end of the second bottle, Jon for one was feeling a little drunk and the conversation had moved from _serious relationship talk,_ to something a little easier to discuss after two bottles of red wine - old Chicago memories, William and Gabe's fucked up relationship with Travis, Joe's job and how bored he was with it. Joe had tried to put money down on the check that Jon snatched up before he could glance at the cost and Jon had kicked him under the table. 

“It’s your birthday, dude. No way. Let me spoil you.” 

“I’ve certainly got a lot of live up to for your birthday coming up. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” 

“You keep saying,” Jon replied, glancing up at Joe with a smile as he signed the bill. 

“That’s because it’s true. When I was a kid, birthdays sucked so bad, oh my _god_ – and then when I got old enough, they were pretty cool, because I got to go to bars and get fucked up, but no ones ever gone to this much effort to make me happy – like, _ever_.” 

Jon let his words sink in for a moment. “Do you want to go for a walk down the waterfront?” he asked and Joe’s eyes lit up in the soft lighting of the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

Jon had been with Patrick for six years, but had rarely held his hand in public. They were forever running into pupils from their schools and the majority of kids that Jon recognized would either giggle as they past with the shock of realizing teachers led lives outside of the classroom, or they’d wave a friendly hello and it wasn’t that Jon and Patrick were ashamed of each other, it was more the fact that the easier their lives were together, the better. 

Jon didn’t really care which of his pupils knew he was gay; he cared that they’d found out in the way they had – by watching his lips suck down Patrick’s dick on their smart phones, but really, he and Patrick had never been for public displays of affection. That’s why he was surprised when Joe made a grab for his hand as they strolled along the waterfront together that night and he didn’t brush him off, just let his hand sit there in Joe’s as they walked. 

It was strangely familiar and worryingly comfortable – the weekend wasn’t going to last forever and Sunday afternoon would roll by eventually and he’d have to climb back on his plane to Las Vegas and suffer in frustrated silence for however long it’d be before they saw each other again. 

Joe pulled Jon toward the railing above the water, the skyline lit up against the night sky behind them as they looked out over the lake. A breeze blew off the water and made Jon shiver – maybe he had acclimatized to the dry, desert heat of Nevada after all, because late summer in Chicago was usually his favorite time of year. 

“I’m glad you came home,” Joe told him, his cigarette balanced between his lips as he searched for a lighter in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I actually kind of hoped you would, you know, but…” he trailed off, patting the ass of his pants and then the front. “I didn’t think you were that much of a romantic.” 

Jon laughed, his palm closing around the lighter in his jacket. “Well,” he sighed, “I kind of caught myself off guard with that one too.” He pulled the lighter from his pocket and brought it up to light Joe’s cigarette. Joe leaned into him, closer than he really needed to, inhaled and then looked down at him. 

“You must really care about me – to go to all this effort.” Joe exhaled his smoke, the fumes blowing straight into Jon’s face and Jon sniffed through his nose, savoring the smell and the taste of his friend’s second hand smoke. “What’s up, given up smoking?” he asked with a smile. 

“Nah,” Jon turned his attention away from the man in front of him and leant his elbows on the railing. He’d forgotten his cigarettes and had been too busy worrying about the fact that Joe was holding his hand walking down the street to ask him if he could pinch a smoke. “Mine are back on your bedroom dresser – and you’re on those Menthols again,” Jon teased, nudging his elbow into Joe’s side. "Gross." 

“They’re good for you,” Joe retorted, laughing out smoke. “Come on, what's mine is yours.” He pulled his packet out his pocket and pressed it into Jon’s chest. “There’s a joint in there too; light it up.” Jon picked the joint out of the packet and smiled a thank you. Joe stepped against him, stubbing his half-finished cigarette out and dropping it to the floor while Jon sparked up. 

He took the first hit – the weed that Brendon had bought a few weeks ago kept him high, but only for a little while; it was a shame he’d been ripped off, because Jon was a man who preferred quality over quantity. Ryan and Brendon still seemed to want to buy as much shitty weed for as little as possible, but all that happened then were sore throats and disappointing highs. The shit Travis grew was a lot better; you could see and smell the difference and after a few hits passed between him and Joe, Jon welcomed back that memorable, relaxed, heavy high. 

Jon shivered again, the breeze from the lake blowing Joe’s hair around his face and he noted how fucking hot he looked right then, joint poised in mouth, eyes cast out along the water edge, tranquil and handsome and familiar. 

“It’s pretty cold tonight, huh?” Jon commented absently as they smoked in silence. The thought had just popped into his head. He didn’t say it because he felt like the void needed to be filled or that Joe’s quiet figure made him awkward. Quite the opposite, Jon felt comfortable stood there, looking out into the night with Joe. 

“Alright, dude – you’ve only been living in the desert for six weeks. Wait ‘til you come back for Christmas.” Joe offered Jon the last hit from the joint but Jon shook his head, already feeling pretty buzzed after smoking some good quality bud again after weeks of smoking shitty trim back in Vegas. Joe killed the joint, crushing it out with the toe of his pointy boot.

His hands pushed into the pockets of his leather jacket and he opened it up as an invitation to Jon. Jon paused – he hated the fact that he did it in public, but he scanned the background quickly before stepping into Joe’s arms and sliding his hands up inside the back of his jacket and squeezing hard. Jon could feel Joe’s balled fists against his hips pulling him closer. He breathed in Joe’s scent and sighed. 

“Feels so good to have you back,” Joe told him. 

“Feels good to _be_ back.” He drew away from Joe’s shoulder to look him in his eyes. He didn’t know why he kept second-guessing himself. The absolute worst thing that could happen was that Joe laughed in his face when Jon admitted he was in love, but it wasn’t that keeping him from saying it, it was the fact that as soon as he admitted it to Joe, they’d have to decide what to do next and Jon knew he wouldn’t handle a long distance relationship very well. The past six weeks without Joe had been really fucking hard, not to mention how close he’d been to leaning his mouth against Ryan’s ear some nights and suggesting they go back to his place – part because he needed sexual relief but also because living in that apartment was the loneliest Jon had ever been in his life. 

He’d always surrounded himself with people and Las Vegas sure was a lonely place without his friends – without Joe, working in a school he didn’t like, teaching pupils who all thought he was a dick because he confiscated their drugs and couldn’t be bothered to stand for their shit and at the end of the day, he’d lay back in bed and sigh at the ceiling and listen to the sirens blazing past his window and he’d try so hard to keep his shit together, but _twice_ since Joe had left to return to Chicago, he’d found himself burying his face into his pillow as the tears welled up behind his eyes and he never cried – at least, he’d always tried really hard not to, but since moving to Las Vegas, he’d done it _twice_ ; nothing dramatic, it wasn’t like he curled up on his couch in the fetal position and bawled, but the sadness still weighed him down at night, silent, sorry tears that dampened his pillow and Jon didn’t know which was sadder. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Joe said it as if it were as simple as that. 

“Me neither.” 

“No. I _really_ don’t want you to leave. Fuck, I’ve missed you. I don’t even know what the fuck’s wrong with me since I got back from Vegas – it’s like getting out of bed in the morning is one huge struggle.” 

Jon sure knew that feeling. 

“Come back with me,” Jon told him – again, as if it were really as simple as that; as if Joe didn’t have a job himself, didn’t have a house and commitments to Chicago. 

“I would, but you hate it out there. When I call you, you do nothing but complain about the school and the heat and your apartment… _You_ should move back _here,_ ” Joe told him, kissing his nose, his jacket still wrapped around Jon’s body. 

“It’s only been six weeks,” Jon pointed out with a laugh. 

“Six weeks too long.” Joe sighed, tightening his grip around Jon’s middle, his chin hooking over his shoulder. “I’d treat you good, I’d make you happy – I’d be faithful. I’d do anything for you, dude, you know that. I am totally,” he breathed, his mouth hot against Jon’s ear, “and utterly,” he continued, his lips brushing against the helix, pressing a soft kiss there. Jon’s body seemed at battle with itself – his brain wanted to shut down, his heart fired into overdrive, and his dick twitched to life inside his pants. 

“Why don’t you get a room, faggots!” 

That kicked Jon’s brain into gear. He drew back quickly, stepping out of Joe’s embrace as he looked back over his shoulder at a passing trio of school-age jocks, their middle fingers raised in defiance of Jon and Joe’s public display of affection. They were probably no older than fifteen, maybe sixteen, but they were sure acting like the world was in their favor; as if they could shout out those things and not feel the consequences.  

“Why don’t you get fucked, assholes?” Joe shouted back, almost instantaneously. The school jocks laughed and when Jon felt Joe start to push forward towards them, he pushed back. 

“Don’t,” he said. “Please.” 

Joe glared after the boys for a few moments and Jon could feel his body tense. “Fuck, that pisses me off,” he said, bracing himself against Jon’s body. Jon could feel Joe’s muscles stiffen as he gripped his arm, keeping his from launching forward and getting into a fight. 

Jon was high, he’d not recognized any of the three boys on first glance, but when he followed Joe’s gaze at the approaching group, his stomach dropped and his heart leapt up into his throat, because… 

“Oh, hey! Sir! Mr. Walker!” one of the boys shouted over at them, nudging his friends and Jon recognized them then – pupils from his old school, the one who was currently heckling him had been the main instigator in Jon’s dismissal – he’d found the video, posted it to his classmates on Facebook, printed out the screenshots, had sat at the back of the class and mimed blowjobs every time Jon tried to speak – and it seemed like not much had changed, because the three boys seemed to find it very amusing – the fact that he was currently living in Nevada, without Joe, because of their stupid fascination with that damn fucking video. 

“Sucking anymore dick online?” one of them hollered and his two counterparts collapsed into giggles. 

“Ex-pupils?” Joe asked him, still surveying the boys over Jon’s shoulder. 

“Yeah. Leave it. Please,” he uttered, pushing back against Joe’s body. Joe seemed to be displaying a textbook example of fight or flight, his body itching to step forward and show the boys what for. Jon didn’t need that on his shoulders – being accused of fighting children in the street because of a few unimaginative heckles. 

“Hey!” Joe shouted and Jon pushed against him. _I said leave it,_ his eyes warned Joe, but Joe waved him off. “Fuck off, I could eat a bowl of Alphabet Soup and shit out of smarter statement than that,” he quipped and Jon laughed at Joe’s cheesy comeback and dropped his head forward against Joe’s shoulder. 

The boys were slow with a reply, one of them finally shouting, “you’re gay!” over at them from between a few bravado laughs before they swaggered away in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, well, _duh_ ,” Joe whispered into Jon’s ear with a smile. His lips lingered there, pressing softly against the side of his head. “You okay?” he asked. 

Jon nodded. “Yeah.” There goes Joe, proud and defiant, standing up for him again when it was all Jon could do to ignore the situation and try and disappear. Being here, back in Chicago with Joe all felt so ridiculously right. It scared him just how well they’d slotted back into being around each other, how much he was already dreading having to say goodbye again at the airport on Sunday. Jon sighed and pulled his head back – he wondered what Joe would have said if they hadn’t have been interrupted by those assholes from his old school. _I’m totally, utterly what?_  

Joe looked ridiculously attractive – he didn’t know if the light had shifted or the world had tilted on its axis to make him notice it right then, but Joe was so striking that Jon suddenly started counting his blessings that Joe was obviously just as attracted to him. Everything – the way his hair blew in the breeze, those bright eyes in the streetlights, that _smile_. 

“I- uh,” Jon paused, bringing his hands up to hold Joe’s face. He was going to finish with the words _love you,_ but he faltered, the pause making it awkward, unsalvageable. “I have a few more birthday surprises back in the hotel room,” he told Joe. _Idiot,_ he cursed. _No wonder Patrick fucking left you, you’re emotionally fucking retarded._

“How exciting. I’ll keep you around if this is the treatment I get every year.” Joe’s fingers pushed up into the back of Jon’s hair, along the nape of his neck and Jon relaxed into it, leaning his head back into Joe’s palm, the pot making him lazy, content. Horny too. “You went to all this effort. It really makes me wonder why…” Joe smiled, his suggestion hanging heavy in the air. 

Jon pressed his face into the crook of Joe’s neck, against the soft, worn leather of his jacket. The warmth of Joe’s body, the pot and the fact that he’d driven straight from his last class this afternoon to the airport of catch the plane had made him sleepy. “I guess I wanted to show you how much I like you.” He spoke the words into Joe’s neck, his eyes closed, his arms looped loosely around his waist. 

“How much you _like_ me?” Joe chuckled, turning his head a fraction so that his mouth was against Jon’s ear. “You sure there’s not another L-word that fits into that sentence somewhere?” 

Jon’s eyes remained closed, his face hidden in Joe’s neck and he could feel his heart beating hard inside his chest, pumping and contracting all out of sync with the rest of him. 

“Probably,” he said. “Right between the _I_ and the _you_.” 

He felt Joe breathe a laugh against his ear and push him back gently from their embrace. Joe’s palm pressed up Jon’s jaw and hooked around the back of his neck. He pressed his lips against Jon’s and they deepened the kiss for a short moment until Joe pulled back. “Come on; let’s go back to the room.” 

Jon kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds than he should have, because they’d kind of said it, but not really and when he felt Joe pull him into motion back along the waterfront, he walked back to the hotel with a hopeful heart. 


	11. Chapter 11

Jon hadn’t expected this – not really. Not when he led the way up to the hotel room that night and tried to slide the keycard into the lock while Joe grabbed his ass and kissed his neck from behind. 

He’d expected a quick, hard fuck; something desperate and primal after their six week break from each other, but he couldn’t have been more wrong, because Joe had stripped him down naked not long after they got through the door and pulled him on top of him. Joe, quite unfairly, Jon thought was still in his boxer shorts and t-shirt and had been making out and gently jerking his dick for the past fifteen minutes. 

It was dark in the hotel room; or as dark as a hotel room in the middle of the city can be, with the curtains still open and the light from the hallway slipping under the door. The room was quiet, the sound of the vent in the bathroom running softly over the sound of their mouths working together, pulling apart wetly and then reconnecting. 

Joe’s breathing was heavy beneath him, his hands sliding down and around his ass, but never lingering there. Jon was already rock hard. He’d had to adjust himself around his erection ten minutes ago. He kissed Joe’s jaw, pushing his face into the nape of his neck and smelling him – that scent was so intoxicating. He could feel Joe’s dick twitching through his underwear and pushed his hand down between their bodies to stroke it over the fabric. 

Jon sat up between Joe’s legs, kissing down his chest and stomach until he reached the waistband on his underwear. He hooked his fingers into the top and pulled them down past Joe’s dick. 

“Look at this thing,” he said, grabbing the base of Joe’s semi and jerking it. He lowered his face in line with it. “It’s as big as my head.” Joe smiled goofily down at him. He still couldn’t get over the size of Joe’s cock. It turned him on so much, it was beautiful, almost - he shook his head slightly to clear his mind and went down on it, sucking his mouth around the tip. 

Joe’s arms reached back over his head and even with all the lights off, when Jon flicked his eyes up to look at him, he knew he was watching. He pulled off, finally ridding Joe of his boxers and throwing them off the bed with the rest of their clothes. In the dark, Jon fumbled for his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He pressed a chaste kiss on Joe’s lips before shifting back down his body, holding eye contact with his friend as he slipped his dick back into his mouth, the fact that he’d drunk a whole bottle of red wine and smoked a joint and hadn’t sucked any dick in six weeks giving him the confidence to put on a little show. 

He jerked it into his mouth, concentrating on the head and the shaft while Joe breathed above him. 

“God, you’re so hot,” Joe sighed, his hand coming down to grip Jon’s shoulder. “And you’re so good at this.” Jon smiled around his dick, pushing his head down far enough that Joe’s breathing hitched and he let out a quiet, _Fuck,_ into the silence of the room. “You have no _idea_ how sexy you look with my dick in your mouth. I wish I could film this,” Joe exhaled and then he knocked his arm and smiled. “Put it on the Internet, get you fired from your job in Vegas too so you can come back home.” 

Jon laughed quietly, pulling off Joe’s dick to kiss up his stomach, up to his ribs. “Fuck off,” he breathed, feeling Joe’s hands at the back of his head, pulling him down for another kiss. Joe flipped their positions, pushing Jon gently back onto the mattress before reconnecting their lips again. Jon felt the press of Joe’s hard dick against his own and closed his eyes. Joe’s mouth pressed warm, wet kisses down his throat, around his nipple for a few moments before tonguing down to his hip, baring his teeth against the skin and nipping gently. Jon shivered. 

“Pricktease,” he breathed, because Joe didn’t touch his cock, but he was right over it. Jon could feel his breath, hot on his dick as his lips pressed kisses on each hip, down into his inner thigh as he spread his legs. He was so close, all Jon had to do was push his hips up a fraction and Joe’s mouth would have been against his dick, but he kept still, shivering at the slight touch of Joe’s fingertips running up and down his body and his mouth, so close and yet seemingly so far from what his body was silently begging for. 

Joe teased and stroked and breathed against his dick for a frustratingly long time before sucking it into his mouth and Jon couldn’t help but buck his hips up appreciatively. Joe sucked at his balls, taking each one into his mouth before kissing sloppily back up the shaft of Jon’s dick and against the head - and it was so hot watching him like that, watching Joe with his dick in his mouth, his eyes closed, lashes dark against his skin. 

Joe went down on him for a lot longer than he ever had before and when he did eventually pull back, his lips were wet and red as he crawled up Jon’s body, lifting his legs and spreading him open. Jon felt exposed, but it felt so good to be back again. He pulled his legs up against his chest and Joe lowered his face between his ass cheeks and ran his tongue slowly up his crack. That was enough to drive Jon wild; he fisted the sheets in his hands and pressed his ass up into Joe’s mouth. 

He loved getting rimmed; to feel a tongue and lips down between his legs, dancing along all the nerve endings around his asshole. It had always been one of his favorite sexual acts – blowjobs were good; great, even – but getting rimmed after so long felt sublime. It wasn’t long before Joe was fucking two fingers into him, his tongue pressed along his taint, sliding down to his hole when he drew his fingers out. 

“D’you like that?” Joe asked, pulling away. 

Like Joe needed to ask. “I love it,” he groaned, his back arching up off the hotel mattress, into the rough intrusion of Joe’s fingers. 

“You’re gonna be so tight. God, I can’t wait.” 

Joe’s tongue pushed forward again, pressing inside him and Jon closed his eyes – it would be embarrassing if he came like this – not even the excuse of not coming earlier would make it any less so. Joe licked around his asshole for a few more moments and then jerked his dick. 

“I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to have the best orgasm of your entire fucking life,” he spat and Jon believed him, watching through his legs as Joe lubed up his dick and then pressed the opening of the lubricant bottle between his cheeks and dribbled a small amount against his asshole. The lube was cold, straight out of the bottle and Jon took a deep, steadily breath to try and calm his nerves. “Are you ready?” Joe asked, kissing him. “It’s all a matter of willpower, baby. You can do this,” he said and then his mouth was gone and he was back to sitting up between his legs and Jon was bracing himself against the sudden intrusion of Joe’s big cock against his asshole. 

“Can I fuck you bareback?” he asked, but Joe wasn’t giving him much of a choice – the head of his dick was already pressing into him. “You’ve not been with anyone else since we last saw each other, right?” Jon shook his head, and then replied with a _No,_ because it was dark. “Oh, man. Good.” Joe’s dick pressed up inside him, that hot burn slowly giving way to pleasure as he felt him push forward. 

Jon cursed, his eyes closed as he tried to separate the pain from that searing pleasure. He was already gone – Joe was hardly even an inch or two inside him and he was already gone. His jaw trembled, his eyes lost focus and his asshole clamped down around his friend’s dick once he was fully inside. 

“You’re so tight. So fucking tight,” Joe told him, one hand holding Jon’s right ankle, the other guiding his dick the rest of the way in. It had been a long time and it hurt as Joe slowly started to fuck him, stretching him open, pushing in a little further with each stroke. Jon hadn’t fucked himself since Joe’s departure; even though he’d been encouraged to down the phone, Joe’s voice hot in his ear, when they engaged in their phone sex sessions. Jon never had the time nor the patience to finger-fuck himself, the angle was always all wrong and he could get off just as well without anything up his ass. Joe’s dick pressed bluntly into his prostate – maybe that last part was a lie because his dick throbbed and his balls tightened at the touch. 

Both Joe’s hands were around his ankles now, spreading his legs wide, his cock fully buried inside him to the hilt, but they weren’t really fucking, because it was slow and controlled - despite that though, Jon couldn’t help the moans falling obscenely from his mouth. 

Joe pulled out halfway and spat on the shaft of his dick as he fucked back in, hitting right on target. Jon had seen that in pornos, but he’d never experienced someone pulling it off so well first hand. _Fuck, that was hot,_ he thought; that would definitely be a memory he’d jerk off to back in Vegas. 

They switched positions a little while later; Joe fucking him from behind, catching his prostate with the head of his dick with each and every thrust and it wasn’t long before Jon was face-down in the hotel pillows, unable to give much back to Joe in return for how good he was making him feel – and then it picked up, the sex becoming harder and more desperate and Jon felt his balls tighten between his legs and his orgasm start to slowly build at the base of his dick. 

Joe’s hips snapped forward relentlessly and they fell into a pace that Jon knew would get him off if they stuck to it for much longer. Joe kept calling him _baby,_ and Jon bit down on the words he’d wanted to say for so long now as his body started to stiffen with arousal. No synonyms, no bullshit, no dancing around the subject of how they felt about each other anymore – just say it, he told himself as he grabbed his dick and made a loose fist around it. 

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Joe told him, breathlessly, pumping in and out of his ass. Jon really had to concentrate. He let his dick go. He was so close – he’d spent those weeks laying in his depressing, lonely bed in his apartment back in Las Vegas, imagining this very moment and now here it was. He wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. Joe pulled out, leaving him feeling empty. He huffed out a moan and then he was lying on the mattress again, flat on his back. 

“I want to see your face when you come.” Joe’s lips pressed against him and he slid back in, forcing his dick deep inside. Jon groaned. They were both slick with sweat and lube and Jon felt so full, so satisfied already – so, _so_ close to spilling his load that he just gripped onto Joe’s shoulder, attempted a quiet announcement that he was going to come and let his eyes slip close as Joe made a haphazard grab for his dick. “Open up your eyes. Come with me, Jon. Baby… _fuck_ …” 

Jon felt it the same time as Joe must have, because they came together, almost in perfect unison and Jon couldn’t shake the white light out of his eyes for a full minute after orgasm. He’d come so hard – everything twisting together in his mind to build those long, few seconds of orgasm into the best he’d ever had. Joe had been right, he thought as he felt his friend pump the last few ribbons of ejaculate inside him; _the best orgasm of his entire fucking life._

The aftermath was hot and breathless, clammy with sweat and come as Joe buried his face into Jon’s neck. They breathed together, Jon’s heart beating fast behind his ribs, his dick still twitching between his legs. “You’re the best, baby. You’re the best I’ve ever had,” Joe told him, blearily trying to recover. “God, fuck. Fuck. Oh, _man_. You’re shaking,” he pointed out and Jon could feel it, his muscles quivering under Joe’s touch.

He relished in the feeling of Joe’s dick turning soft inside him, almost whining when he pulled out slow, feeling his hot come trickle out between his legs. Joe fell back down on top of him, his body turning to a dead weight for a brief moment before he slid down onto the bed beside him. 

“Was that good?” 

“That was-” but Jon didn’t really have the words. He turned his head and blindly puckered a kiss where his lips met with Joe – just above his eyebrow. “That was mind-blowing.” But even _mind-blowing_ seemed like an understatement. He pulled his arm up from where it was trapped between their bodies and Joe lifted his head compliantly, settling down into the crook of his elbow. Jon grazed his fingers over Joe’s tattooed shoulder, and took a deep, steadying breath. 

“Joe,” he said - his body still loose and languid from orgasm, his eyes slipping lazily shut. 

“Mmm?” Joe wiped Jon’s come away from his stomach with the corner of the bed sheet. 

“I love you.” And for some reason he felt like crying – like those three words pulled on his emotions so strongly that he didn’t know how to rationalize them. 

Joe sighed and pulled the covers up around their sweat-sticky bodies. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, his voice… _weird._ Quiet. 

“Oh, bullshit,” Jon smiled, his hand leaving Jon’s shoulder to stroke through his hair. 

“No.” Joe paused and Jon’s heart beat hard in his chest. “My dad didn’t beat me every day because he loved me. My mom didn’t fuck off because she cared. No one’s ever said that – not my parents,” Joe sniffed hard, “not any guy, ever.” 

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat, blinked his eyes against the sadness Joe’s words pushed up from his chest. The more he thought about what to say next, the more words failed him. He wound his other arm tight around Joe’s body and pressed his lips against the top of his head. 

“ _I_ love you,” he said again. “Fuck, Joe, I love you so much.” 

Joe pulled out of his embrace, shifting up his body to bring their faces level. Joe’s eyes were watering, glassy in the darkness of the hotel room. It almost killed him to know those truths, that for whatever reason, no one else had beaten him to it; that Joe had never fallen asleep next to someone who’d told him they loved him. It made Jon feel almost guilty that it’d taken him so long – months too long; and now he’d said it three times in less than a minute. 

Joe pressed forward against his lips urgently, again and again, quick and desperate, his words whispered out between kisses. 

“You’re the only person I ever want to hear it from,” he said, his eyes closed, his hand scrubbing along Jon’s jaw, over his beard. His voice sounded how his kisses felt – desperate. “I swear to god, Jon – you mean the world to me. Fuck _me_ …” And then Jon could feel Joe’s wet lashes against his cheek, butterfly kissing up to his ear. “I love you.” 

Jon’s emotions came a tap-tap-tapping, flowing through his body like a drug, lighting him on fire from the inside out and he gripped Joe’s shoulders, his fingers digging into his skin as Joe shifted on top of him, looking down into his eyes. Jon grabbed his cheeks. 

“I love you,” he said again, dizzy with reality. The words were so easy now, so natural, flowing out of his mouth without fear. “I want to make you happy.” 

“You do,” Joe smiled, his fingers pushing Jon’s hair back. And then, “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I’m with you.” 

Jon returned his smile, pulling Joe’s head down against his chest – and there it was; finally. The air clear, the slate wiped fresh, those three little words dancing around the room and Jon felt his grin grow wider and wider until he couldn’t really concentrate on anything else. He lay awake a little after Joe had turned over onto his back and fallen asleep, listening to his deep breaths next to him – the sound and the warmth of another man sleeping next to him made his chest swell. He watched Joe; only for a few moments before he felt his eyes pulling closed and his body giving in to the tug of sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

“Look at me. Baby.” 

Jon flicked his eyes up to meet Joe’s and shifted his weight onto his toes. Joe’s hand slid around the back of his head and Jon opened his throat for what he knew was coming next – the slow, steady push forward onto Joe’s dick. 

Joe groaned as Jon slid further down his cock, his head falling back exposing his throat and Jon kept watching him, kept feeling and listening for the signs that his orgasm was close. When Joe brought his head forward again, their eyes locked and Joe thrust a little deeper, taking a step between Jon’s spread knees, his other leg braced behind him. He pushed forward roughly, the head of his dick catching the back of Jon’s throat and he gagged, pulling away to catch his breath. 

Jon had never been the kind of guy to give blowjobs behind clubs, but tonight he was – crouched in the dank doorway behind the gay bar with Joe’s dick in his mouth. He knew they were risking a lot, but it was as if the cheap beer they’d been drinking all night had mixed with the lust and desperation they felt for each other, making them both insatiable.

Jon was turned on and Joe kept mumbling dirty praise down at him from his standing position – his dick was straining at his pants, uncomfortably stiff between his legs and he’d have done anything for Joe, he decided that night, after Joe pressed up behind him on the dance floor, his hands sliding around his hips, down around the bulge in his jeans and suggested they go get some fresh air. 

Jon had gone willingly – he’d also willingly followed Joe around the back of the club, along the back wall, towards the shadowy area inside the alcove of the fire exit. Jon had half expected Joe to offer him drugs, to rub his gums with coke or swap an ecstasy tablet as they made out, but there were no drugs, just clumsy, drunken hands and Joe’s hot tongue inside his mouth, his weight pressing Jon up against the wall of the emergency exit doorway. 

“It’s my birthday, why don’t you suck me off?” Joe had breathed after a few moments. It had been hard for Jon to say no, because Joe’s hand was already palming his dick through his jeans, his legs were already turning to jelly, his body feeling like it had been led past the point of no return. 

“I’m not going to suck you off out here,” Jon replied, even though he knew he already would. “Someone might see.” 

“Exactly,” Joe had mumbled into his neck, kissing up his jaw and around his ear. “That turns me on. _You_ turn me on. I’m not going to ask twice.” Joe’s careful choice of words stirred Jon’s arousal. He was hungry for that dick, eager to turn his new lover on, to taste his cock in his mouth again and make him come and so he’d lowered his hands between their bodies and quickly unpopped the first button of Joe’s pants, shoving them down around his hips. 

With a quick glance around the empty parking lot behind the club, Jon pulled Joe’s dick from his pants and jerked him to a semi erection, all the time Joe’s mouth was pressed up against his ear, whispering soft words of encouragement into the night. 

The doorway offered them a small amount of privacy, but anyone walking back to their car would be able to see their little show and if the cops caught them, that was a night in jail – that was indecent exposure, public intoxication and a completely ruined weekend. 

“We should go back to your place,” Jon suggested, but he was already falling to his knees and wrapping his lips around Joe’s dick. He wanted to make it quick – in the back of his mind he was worried about security cameras, he was worried about getting caught and being arrested, but his own desires had taken over and it wasn’t long before he’d lost himself to the act, sucking Joe’s dick deep and gently tugging on his balls. 

“Suck it all the way down, baby, come on.” Joe’s words tumbled around his head and Jon closed his eyes and pressed his mouth forward until he was an inch away from Joe’s neat pubic hair, his jaw stretched, his throat full. That’s when Joe had ordered Jon to look at him, twisting his fingers around the short curls at the nape of Jon's neck. He felt the pressure at the back of his head as Joe pushed him forward, slowly until his nose was pressing into his lower belly. 

Giving Joe blowjobs turned Jon on. He loved the fact that he could suck that huge dick down the back of his throat. It made him hard when Joe hissed and groaned above him. He even enjoyed when Joe pushed his head roughly down on his cock to try and hurry the process along. The dirty desperation and the need was a huge turn on.

“You are so ridiculously fucking hot like that,” Joe informed him and he dropped his head back again, fucking Jon’s mouth until he gagged and pulled away. “Holy fucking Christ, I love you.” Joe’s voice left his mouth in a moan and he fed his cock into Jon’s mouth again until he was about two thirds inside. 

Jon’s heart swelled at Joe’s words, his dick hard between his legs and he’d need release before returning to the club, but didn’t think that Joe would give into him that easy. He tentatively pushed his hand down the back of Joe’s open jeans and trailed a finger between his ass cheeks. 

He’d fucked Joe’s ass this morning, back in the hotel room and he’d felt so incredible, so tight around the base of his dick, so fucking compliant that it had taken Jon all of ten minutes to shoot his load inside of him. The memory did nothing to quell his erection and instead he pulled Joe’s dick from his mouth, sucked at the tip for a few moments and let Joe finish himself off by jerking his orgasm onto his tongue. He struggled to stand, the front of his jeans tight across his own hard-on and Joe pressed forward for an eager kiss, tasting his come on Jon’s tongue, his fingers sliding up through the back of his hair to pull gently at it. 

“How long d’you think it’d take you to get off?” Joe asked him, his fingers already pulling at Jon’s belt buckle, sliding inside his pants. 

“Probably about thirty seconds,” he answered, dropping his head onto Joe’s shoulder as he jerked him off, quick and steady. 

Not that Jon was counting, but twenty-three seconds later, Joe’s knuckles were streaked with come and he was leaning against the bare brick wall of the fire escape, struggling to catch his breath. 

Back in the club, stood at the bar with Joe’s arm around his shoulders, Joe smiled against his temple. “Let’s buy you a drink to get the taste of come out of your mouth, hmm?” Jon batted him away fondly and Joe dipped forward for a kiss, his tongue gently pushing inside his mouth – and then the handsome barman was stood in front of them, looking unamused that they were keeping him waiting for their order on a busy Saturday night. 

“Where the hell’ve _you_ been?” William huffed, approaching them as they tipped the bartender. Joe’s fingers dug into Jon’s neck as a warning to keep quiet, but they gave themselves away by laughing anyway. “It’s not funny, I’ve been looking all over for you.” William flicked his hair out of his eyes and fixed them both with a serious look. “I don’t want to ruin whatever is going on between the two of you, but Joe, that kid you’ve been hanging out with – he’s in the restrooms and he’s totally fucked on _something_.” 

“What kid?” Joe asked William, the same time as Jon asked Joe the same question, but even before William’s description – tall, young kid, dirty blond hair – Jon knew. 

Cooper.

 

 

* * *

 

Jon couldn’t believe how quickly his good night had turned sour. Not five minutes ago he’d been stood around the back of the club, his dick in Joe’s hand, their lips pressed together as he came and now he was watching Joe crouch over Cooper’s slumped form on the restroom floor, his cellphone pressed to his ear as he called 911. 

Jon’s emotions were in turmoil. He’d spent six weeks wondering whether Joe was still involved with Cooper, six weeks hoping and praying that his suspicions weren’t true but now, watching the way Joe’s hand rubbed Cooper’s shoulder, the way Cooper’s long, white fingers reached out to grip Joe’s as he lay on the piss-stained floor, he couldn’t help the doubt reverberating around his head. 

William pushed into the bathroom behind them and Jon glared at him, silently seeking answers – firstly, how the hell did William know who Cooper was? What where he and Joe, some kind of official Chicago couple? Had Joe been fond enough of Cooper to introduce him to William and Gabe? 

And secondly, why was Cooper even here tonight? How did he manage to get into the club where Joe was partying for his birthday without legitimate ID? Had he been invited? Had Joe invited Cooper out with them and then forgotten to call it off after Jon turned up, unannounced on his doorstep on Friday evening? 

He didn’t know what to think. He had no idea what to say. Joe had always been so damned honest with him, he’d lay there next to him in bed last night, with wet eyes and told him he _loved_ him. Well, Patrick had taken him for a fool, but he certainly wasn’t going to let Joe do the same thing. 

He turned and pushed past William’s shoulder, back out into the club and headed for the exit. He needed some fresh air and a cigarette. He felt the anger grip his body as he pushed through the crowd on the dance floor. Ten minutes ago he’d been sucking Joe’s big dick down the back of his throat without a care in the goddamn world. Now he could see those walls he’d let down last night quickly being bricked back up, with Joe disappearing behind them. 

Outside of the club, he tried to clear his head. He took deep drags on his cigarette and flicked it to the sidewalk after two minutes, lighting another one immediately. Why the hell hadn’t Joe told him he was still fooling around with Cooper? A part of him got it – Cooper was young and most likely eager to please. He was handsome and naïve and would have been totally swept away by Joe’s relentless seduction – Jon sure had been and he had around ten years on young Cooper. He bit the inside of his cheek and kicked the toes of his shoes into the wet sidewalk. He heard sirens and turned towards the blue flashing lights of the ambulance, motioning to the paramedics that they needed to head to the bathrooms, right at the back. 

There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why Cooper had collapsed from some kind of drug overdose in the same club Joe had just so happened to suggest coming to tonight. Perfectly reasonable, Jon told himself again as he dropped his second cigarette end into a puddle in the gutter and sighed. Cooper was underage; what the hell was Joe even doing associating himself with him? 

Jon felt his emotions see-sawing from one extreme to the other; from rational thought and reasoning to blazing, unfathomable anger and jealousy. Cooper was a fucking _kid_ , some skinny hipster punk, with a handsome bone structure and a stupid crush on Joe. 

 _I can totally explain._  

The text from Joe flashed up on his cellphone just as he was about to light up his third cigarette. He paused to send a reply; 

 _Good, you can run your excuse by me before you have to explain yourself to the cops._

It sounded way angrier in text form than Jon had really intended, so he quickly tapped out a second message, in hopes of avoiding any hurt feelings. 

 _Silly boy x_

Jon clutched his phone waiting for a reply. His hands were shaking by the time he spotted the paramedics step back out onto the street, Cooper on a stretcher between them - the medics were followed by Joe, followed closely by William. William spotted him first and beckoned him over. It took a few seconds for Jon to start walking over to them, stopping a few feet shy from where William was stood, this stupid look of worry etched on his pretty face. 

Why was he so worried, Jon wondered. His mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that William looked worried because he knew Cooper better than either he or Joe wanted to admit – perhaps they were a regular group of friends now. After all, Jon had been living in Vegas for almost two months; that was probably enough time for someone like Cooper to weasel his way into their circle of friends and take his place. He watched Joe talking to the female paramedic, glancing from her, back over at Cooper, a frown on his face - and suddenly he _hated_ Cooper, hated his stupid blond hair and his drug blackout in the bathroom – most likely all for attention, he thought to himself snidely as he watched the paramedics slide Cooper into the ambulance and then look expectantly at Joe. 

 _Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you-_

Joe looked back at him, his eyebrows knotted, this horrible look of sympathy on his face and he dug his house keys from the front pocket of his jeans and threw them at Jon. Jon’s hand reached out automatically to catch them and he pushed them into his jacket pocket and took a deep drag of his cigarette. Jon realized too late that it would have been cooler to just let Joe’s house keys land on the sidewalk and then stare him out as he climbed into the ambulance, but that would’ve been a dick move, his rational side interjected – because a kid OD’ing in a nightclub bathroom, being taken to hospital in an ambulance is still a kid OD’ing in a nightclub bathroom, no matter whose relationship he was threatening. 

“I’ll call you. Keep your phone on.” Joe shout-whispered as he stepped up into the ambulance. Jon kept his face neutral and pretended not to notice Joe’s hand against his heart as the ambulance door was pulled closed, the words _I love you,_ mouthed silently in Jon’s direction. 

No one else noticed it. William was already turning towards him, brown eyes questioning from underneath his long bangs. He took a deep breath and watched the ambulance pull away down the block, siren blazing once as it disappeared in a blue haze toward the hospital. 

Jon spotted Gabe come swaggering out of the club like he owned the place, men staring after him as he walked by. _Fucking Gabe, man,_ Jon thought as he blinked down the street. The man was always so uncouth; he knew he’d have something cocky to say once he joined them on the sidewalk. 

Gabe whooped as he approached Jon from behind, digging his fingers into Jon’s collarbone and squeezing roughly. Jon pulled quickly away, shaking his shoulders to shrug Gabe off him. Gabe was sniffing hard, pupils blown, his shirt damp with sweat. 

“What up, Jon Boy, your boyfriend gone to spend his birthday with his bit on the side, hmm?” he asked laughing. Gabe talked shit all the time and Jon always gave as good as he got, but tonight he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t in the mood for snide remarks about his relationship with Joe and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for petty assumptions regarding Joe’s relationship with Cooper. 

“Fuck off, man.” Jon stepped away from Gabe’s bony elbow toward the curb and inhaled on his cigarette. He fixed Gabe with a stern look – _don’t fuck with me,_ he warned silently. _Not tonight._

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Gabe defended himself, stepping against William’s side and winding his arm around his waist. William, annoyingly, rested against him. His neck bent at almost a right angle to rest against Gabe’s shoulder. “Sorry, I forgot it’s the other way around – _you’re_ the bit on the side; Joe’s gone to play doting boyfriend at young dude’s bedside.” 

There was a small pause where Jon noticed William’s face turn into an expression of disapproval and Gabe’s stupid grin challenged him to retaliate. “Get fucked,” Jon spat after a few seconds, the venom crisp on his voice. 

Gabe backed up, his palms waving in front of his chest. “Jeez,” he whistled. “Didn’t know you were so gosh-darn in love with him. Though, so I hear, there’s obviously one very _big_ reason you’re so gaga over Trohman.” 

William laughed softly, his face turning into Gabe’s shoulder and Jon wondered how they’d managed to keep it so casual throughout the years. Jon had fallen in love with Joe in a matter of weeks. William and Gabe had been screwing since William was eighteen and despite that, neither one of them seemed to regard the other as a _boyfriend._ Jon wondered if they’d ever told each other they loved each other. If they’d ever fallen asleep at night, those words kissed into each other’s lips. 

“You think that’s funny? Making fun of me like this; belittling my relationship with Joe because you think it’s a joke? Why the hell d’you think I came back for – paid almost five fucking hundred dollars on a plane ticket to come out here? It sure as hell isn't to visit you two and your snide fucking comments,” he spat angrily, taking one final last suck on his cigarette and dropping it at his feet. 

“Jesus, Jon,” Gabe huffed and rolled his eyes. “I was just kidding, fucking hell, take a joke, you miserable asshole.” 

Jon shook his head and thought about Cooper’s fingers twisted together in Joe’s. He _needed_ to know what was going on, he was itching for some kind of explanation from Joe, that devious fucker. He stared at his phone, silently willing a message to buzz through, as if by magic. 

“So, what are you two going to do; the long distance thing? That’s so sweet.” 

“Don’t patronize me, man.” Jon shot Gabe his second warning glance of the evening and hoped he wouldn’t be antagonized any further. _Third strike out and you're out, so you better shut the fuck up_ , he wanted to advise. 

“I’m not being patronizing. I’m genuinely interested.” Gabe tapped his chin thoughtfully with one long finger and Jon waited for whatever garbage threatened to spill out of his mouth. “Yeah,” Gabe sniffed. Jon looked up to see him rubbing his nose with the heel of his palm; clicking his jaw, trying to relax his mouth. “I’ve been wondering what you’ve been doing to keep someone with an attention span as short as Joe’s interested. I mean, you couldn’t even keep up with Patrick, you must be doing some pretty kinky shit with Joe.” 

The anger took over Jon’s body even before he could cap it under control. Before he knew what was happening, he’d raised his hands to push roughly against Gabe’s chest from across the sidewalk, pushing him into a bike rack as he lost his footing and stumbled backwards. That part happened without much control on Jon’s half. The next thing he was aware of was William’s surprised shout of _hey!_ from behind his shoulder and Gabe’s confused _what the fuck, man_ mumbled out as he pushed himself up from a tangle of bikes. 

“Fucking hilarious, huh? My fucked up relationship with Patrick, bet you had a good laugh at my expense at that one. You need to learn when to be fucking serious, man because I don’t know whatever the fuck works for you two, but that’s not working for me and so you just fucking laugh it up, because you’re a hateful prick, Gabe.” 

“Fuck me,” Gabe cursed under his breath, his hand scratching the back of his head. “I was only joking around, dude.” 

Jon sighed and looked up at the hazy night sky, glowing orange in the distance from the lights in the city. He remembered back to his acid trip in Las Vegas, laying on the blanket outside in the yard and looking up at the same stars with Ryan – and then it hit him; like a ton of fucking bricks. _Ryan._  

He’d been silently cursing Joe and preparing for the worst since William had approached them in the bar and told them Cooper was passed out in the restrooms. His mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that there was something untoward going on between Joe and his young friend and he thought of the worst possible scenario with little rationality. 

He hadn’t even thought about Ryan all weekend, but they’d sometimes been so close to making out back in Vegas – Jon had jerked off to thoughts of Ryan, legs spread wide on his mattress as they fucked. He sometimes watched Ryan’s lips when he talked and pictured his dick between them, his mouth sucking, cheeks hollowed. He envisioned smoking hot threesomes between himself and Joe and Ryan more often than he’d have liked to admit and yet, he didn’t feel guilty. Not until he’d remembered about _Ryan Ross, the English teacher_ – about their kiss the first time they went out together, how hard they flirted with each other on Friday nights at the gay bar… 

It had been _one_ kiss – _weeks_ ago and it counted for nothing. It meant _nothing._ Perhaps Joe had the same excuse, he thought, turning to William and then to Gabe and apologizing. 

 _You’re not a totally innocent party,_ he reminded himself. _You’ve got your dirty little secret back in Vegas; Joe’s got his out here in Chicago._ The realization made him uncomfortable – he’d been more than ready to give Joe the silent treatment, to make him feel guilty – for _what?_ Going off in the ambulance with a kid he mentored in work? 

Jon bit his lip and reached out to pat Gabe guiltily on the arm. Gabe gave a short, swift nod and then sniffed again and fixed Jon with wild eyes. 

“I’m _sorry_ , man,” he said, rubbing his nose. “You two are like, _fiercely_ protective of each other, huh?” 

“It’s not like that. He’s my friend – _our_ friend; and you should leave fucking Patrick out of this too, he’s got nothing to do with it.” 

Gabe gave a guilty half-shrug. “Alright. Fuck.” 

Jon forced his feet into motion and started walking down the block. He didn’t particularly want to return to Joe’s house alone, but it had been kind of him to give him his house keys. He didn’t have anywhere else to go; William’s couch, his mother’s spare bedroom? 

After a few feet, William called out to him. “Hey, where’re you going?” 

“Back to Joe’s,” he shouted back over his shoulder. “My night’s already kind of ruined.” 

“Jon, man, come on, come back inside. I’ll buy you a drink.” This was Gabe talking, rolling on his heels, grinding his teeth. Gabe was usually pretty good at hiding when he was high on drugs, but not tonight. Perhaps it was because Jon himself was reasonably sober – watching your lover hop into an ambulance beside some poor seventeen-year-old boy he might possibly be banging would do that.  

“I wanna go home.” 

But _home_ – what was that? It wasn’t his old bedroom at his mom’s house, it wasn’t Bill’s couch, it wasn’t his old apartment with Patrick. It certainly wasn’t Las Vegas. Home wasn’t even Joe’s house; not without Joe, anyway. He felt fucking pathetic; he wanted to smoke a few bowls and pass the fuck out. Maybe by the time he woke up Joe would be back, hurriedly explaining what the hell Cooper was doing getting high in the club bathrooms on his birthday. 

He walked to the end of the block and went to cross the street, fumbling in his jacket pocket around Joe’s keys for his cigarettes. He was a block and a half away from the club when he heard heavy footsteps running up behind him and felt William’s breathless call of, “wait up. Jon, come on…” 

He slowed his pace slightly as William fell into step beside him. “I am so out of shape!” William puffed and he clutched his chest dramatically. “So, what’s up?” he continued, “does Gabe owe me fifty bucks or what?” 

Jon forced a laugh, remembering back to last night when William had picked him up from the airport, to how he’d told him that he and Gabe had made a bet that Jon and Joe would eventually become something official. Last night; seemed like a fucking week ago. 

“Fuck, dude. I don’t know what the fuck.” He shook his head and eventually the pair ambled to a slow stop on the sidewalk, taking a seat in a nearby bus stop. Jon lit his cigarette and smoked in silence, contemplating his future with Joe. 

That’s what he was scared of now, deciding on any kind of future they had together. Last night they’d admitted they loved each other, but that was only the first step for them. Now they had to reorganize their lives around each other if they wanted to be together. Jon hadn’t been in Vegas more than two months and already he was eager to move back to Chicago – a step that would only leave him jobless and unemployable. Maybe Joe would move to Las Vegas with him? He let the fantasy play through his mind for a few brief moments; him and Joe house hunting together, being able to wrap around each other every night without the thought that they’d soon have to go back to sleeping in their separate beds, in totally different cities at the back of his mind. 

“What’s going on? I mean with Joe and that kid?” he asked. William sighed beside him and stretched his long legs out on the sidewalk. 

“I think that kid – what’s his name?” 

“Cooper.” He hated that stupid name. 

“ _Cooper_ , yeah… I think Cooper has a bit of a crush.” 

Jon raised his eyes to look at William’s face. William was always pretty readable and his expression was neutral. He didn’t look like he was covering anything up on Joe’s behalf. 

“Does Joe feed into that or what?” He took another drag on his cigarette, but the nicotine suddenly made him feel sick. “Dude, you got any weed, man? These cigarettes just ain’t cutting it.” He dropped his smoke to the floor, regretting it immediately when William said he was fresh out of weed. 

“Gabe’s got coke,” he added, unhelpfully. 

Jon snorted. “I never would have guessed.” He looked back toward the club. Gabe had already disappeared back inside. The weekend had been so perfect, right up until they got back to the bar after the blowjob. They should’ve just gone back to Joe's, Jon thought. Then they wouldn’t be in this situation. He couldn’t get the image of Cooper, grasping for Joe’s fingers on the bathroom floor out of his head. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of them. I’m only aware of that kid because he’s shown up a few times when we’ve been out with Joe - uninvited, to the best of my knowledge. I have a feeling he's a bit of a stalker and I have no idea if Joe's leading him on or what, but what I _do_ know is that Joe’s like, one hundred and ten percent crazy about you. Dude, he’s always talking about you. It's actually pretty cute.” 

Jon battled the smile that pulled at his lips. 

“He loves you, man. It’s so fucking obvious. I’ve never seen him like this before. Even if anything did happen between Joe and that kid, that Cooper while you’ve been in Vegas, you’re prepared to throw what you two have away because of it? You’re great together. I know it’s more than a rebound fuck – to _both_ of you. You’d be stupid to blame Joe for fooling around with some kid because, from what I hear, you didn’t decide to be anything official when he left Las Vegas.” 

Jon let his friend's words sink in for a few moments and then he sighed, feeling sorry for himself again. He seemed to do too much of that, these days. He pushed his hands over his face and up through his hair. “How do you do it, man? You and Gabe, how’d you keep things so easy between the two of you?” 

William shrugged. “I don’t know. I _like_ Gabe – fuck, man, I love him, but we piss each other off too much to be a couple. We just seem to agree that we’re better off as, like, _casual lovers,_ instead of anything serious.” 

“Is that what you call it; _casual lovers?_ ” 

“It works for us,” William laughed and leant over to wrap his arm around Jon’s neck. He pulled him in and pecked a kiss against Jon’s temple. “Joe told me tonight that he’s in love with you and that it’s going to kill him, you going back to Nevada.”

Jon's nerves seemed to vibrate inside his body. He suddenly felt like his blood was electric. His stomach flip-flopped between overwhelming happiness to a deep, dull ache of sorrow within seconds. 

“I don’t know what I’m meant to do,” Jon sighed, feeling his emotions shake inside his chest and tickle his nose. “Fuck, Bill, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before – not even Patrick and I’m so scared of committing to anyone again, because what if the same thing happens? What if Gabe's right? What if it's _me?_ Maybe I'm the problem; I couldn't make Patrick happy, how the hell am I expected to keep Joe happy? I can’t go through that again, man. Not with Joe. I can’t-” 

“You’re not going to get anywhere if you compare every relationship you have from now on to what happened with Patrick. That was _his_ fault - his and Pete's. Not yours.” 

Jon sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “I know, I’m sorry. I just feel super shitty. I should go lay down, get some sleep.” He bit back tears. What the fuck was it about Joe that made him feel so desperate, it was as if he was only one hundred percent happy when Joe was next to him. They weren't even an official item and Jon was already preparing for their break-up.  

William rubbed his back and then pulled his hand away, back into his lap. “Well, I may not be an expert, but sometimes love is worth all that hardship in the end, you know? We miss you in Chicago - me and Gabe, and Joe especially. Travis too, his business has decreased by like, fifty percent since you moved out of state.” 

Jon laughed sadly and bit his lip. He let William pull him in for another hug and he rubbed at his face, trying to relieve some of the pressure behind his eyes. William was right, honesty was indeed the best policy and he had to let go of all that bitterness he’d been carting around with him since finding out Patrick had been having an affair if he wanted to make a go of things with Joe. 

Even if Joe _had_ been screwing around with Cooper, even if he had been shielding the truth about their relationship over the phone, Jon didn’t care. It upset him, but not enough to take back what he’d said last night, not enough to fly back to Las Vegas and never talk to him again. He pulled free of William’s tight embrace and shook the tension out of his body as he stood up from the bench at the bus stop. 

“I’m gonna go back to Joe’s place,” he said. He longed to call it home. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” William gave a slow, understanding nod and bid him goodnight. 

When Jon got back to Joe’s house, it was quiet and empty. He smoked a joint on the couch and attempted to get all the words that were inside his head out into a text to Joe. While he was busy typing and deleting words, staring at his phone from behind his hazy high, his phone buzzed through with a message of its own. 

 _I would climb a thousand mountains just to see you smile!_

Jon’s mouth involuntarily turned up into a grin and he brought the joint to his mouth as he typed out a reply. 

 _Really? One thousand? U sure? Xx_

Joe’s reply came through immediately. 

 _Maybe not 1000, maybe 2 or 3 small hills. Smokers lungs lol._  

Jon laughed, leaning back on the couch, feeling relaxed now he’d finished most of a joint to himself. He climbed the stairs and paused at Joe’s bedroom door – it felt weird being here without him, looking at his empty, unmade bed knowing he’d have to get under the covers alone. Jon sighed and turned toward the spare bedroom – the room he’d only spent a handful of nights in before he and Joe started sleeping together on the regular. 

The bed in the spare room was neatly made and he switched the light on and then off before kicking his shoes from his feet and padding over to sit on the mattress. As he relaxed, the heavy high taking over his body, he heard another message ring through on his cellphone. Jon looked at it tiredly and scanned his eyes over Joe’s words. 

 _Sorry about our ruined evening. Will make it up to you. Promise_  

Jon’s eyes closed to sleep before he’d even finished the rest of the message. 


	13. Chapter 13

Jon was dreaming – he was aware of that. He’d been tossing and turning under the comforter all night and now that daylight had broken, the light flooding in from the open curtains, he was having a hard time shaking the sleep from his head. 

He was out in Utah, stood on the shore of the Salt Lake, but the lake was a vast, rough ocean and way off shore he could see huge waves breaking, spraying white sea foam as they crashed, getting bigger and bigger as they rolled closer and he was trying to run, but his dream legs wouldn’t carry him and the waves were wild and terrifying, deep blue walls of water crashing down around him. He was aware of Joe somewhere in the back of his mind, Joe lost somewhere at sea, calling his name, getting swept away by the current and Jon was desperate to find him, but he couldn’t see anything save for the blue wall of water in front of him and then the suffocating crush as it swept him away, scudding along the ocean floor, unable to breath. 

He could faintly hear a distant banging and he struggled to open his eyes, to wake from his dream but it was too much of a struggle, the water was weighing him down, squeezing the air from his lungs, dragging him along by his shoulders. 

“Hey, what are you doing in here?” 

Jon’s eyes shot open, the terror of the dream quickly dissipating as he blinked his surroundings in to focus. 

Joe was pressed up hard against his back, his fingers hooked over his shoulders, pulling him back and Jon’s legs were twisted up in the bed sheets, bound together, preventing him from moving. He recalled tiny snippets of his dream before they fizzled away – he remembered the terror; and the ocean, but not much else. Joe was pushed up against him, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing against the bare skin of his back. 

Jon struggled to kick his legs free; he was feeling claustrophobic and over-heated, the back of his neck sticky with sweat. His heart rate slowed, falling into a more regular pace and he shifted under Joe’s touch, as he tried to recall last night. 

The nightmare forgotten, Jon groggily pieced together the events of last night; Joe headed off in the ambulance with Cooper, the blowjob behind the club before that kid had ruined their entire evening together, Gabe being a cocky fucking asshole – he’d knocked him down on the sidewalk for having a smart mouth, he recalled, feeling guilty. 

“I expected to see you in my bed,” Joe commented from behind him, kissing his bare shoulder. “You okay?” Joe's voice was soft; so quiet - just right for this early in the morning.  

Jon gave a grunt of acknowledgement and blinked the sleep out of his eyes – the sun was too bright, the bedroom too warm, he felt like he was burning up. 

“How’s Cooper?” he asked, nudging Joe away with his elbow. He sat up on the bed and rubbed at his eyes, the frustration of having such a disturbed night’s sleep suddenly weighing down heavily on him. 

“Cooper’s fine. Took some shitty E and passed out.” Joe’s voice was cautious as if he was preparing for a stream of questions regarding his relationship with the boy. Jon looked down at him on the mattress – he looked tired, deep dark circles under his red eyes, his hair a frizzy mess on top of his head. Jon sighed, heavily and dropped his eyes down Joe’s body, to his chest rising and falling slowly, down to the thin strip of skin showing between his low-slung pants and the bottom of his t-shirt. 

He slipped his fingers over it, pushing his hand under Joe’s shirt to give his stomach a tender rub. He was glad Cooper wasn't critical - or worse, dead. That'd really put a dampener on his weekend. Joe’s hand looped around his wrist, pulling him down into his chest. 

“You were gone for a long time,” Jon mentioned, his voice quiet as they lay there together in silence. He felt Joe sigh beneath him and his hand pushed up into the back of his hair. Jon didn’t know what time it was, but he guessed it was still reasonably early. Either way, he’d expected Joe to be back before the sun came up. “What’s the deal?” he asked eventually. “Between you and Cooper?” 

Joe’s silence stretched on for too long for Jon’s liking. He’d had all night to decide on his excuses, Jon thought as Joe tightened his grip around his shoulders. 

“There’s nothing between us,” Joe sighed, stopping short. “I mean; not now. I feel sorry for him.” 

“Why?” Jon asked incredulously, his brow knotting – and what the hell did ‘ _not now’_ mean? If _not now_ then _when?_

“Because his dad’s a fuck-up alcoholic and his mom left and remarried and doesn’t really want anything to do with him.” 

 _Oh_. So, Jon understood. Joe felt sorry for Cooper because Cooper reminded him of himself. He shifted uncomfortably on top of him, slipping down onto the bed, leaving his hand to palm over Joe’s chest. 

“He’s in love with you?” 

“He’s not in love with me, he’s got a stupid crush on me. Big difference. The hospital couldn’t get a hold of his dad; I didn’t want to just leave him there on his own. His mom lives down in Ohio or Iowa or some shit.” Joe sighed and turned over to face Jon, hooking his hand around his neck and pulling their foreheads together. 

“What was he doing at the club?” 

“Got in on his brother’s ID. Bill had tagged me in some check-in on Facebook. Cooper saw that and decided to come down. I didn’t tell you I’d been meeting him out of work because I knew what you’d say; I knew you’d tell me I was stupid, and you’re right, but dude, he just reminds me so much of me when I was his age – and I had no one; I had friends, but I had no one that had been in the same situation as me, someone who could sit me down and tell me, _it gets better, hang on in there._ ” 

“Have you fucked him?” Jon asked, his heart beating hard in his chest, his throat knotting up as he swallowed. 

“No.” Joe was very still next to him, Jon could feel how tense he was, could see the heavy rise and fall of his breaths. “Here’s the thing,” he spoke, after an apprehensive pause. “And I’m going to be totally, one hundred percent honest with you, because there’s no point in this if we’re just going to lie to each other. Okay?” 

Jon nodded against Joe’s chest. After Patrick, he’d decided that he needed a relationship based on honesty, but was it really needed right now? They weren’t even a couple; they weren’t _together_ when Joe left Las Vegas. Maybe they could just let bygones be bygones and forget the whole thing… 

“Okay,” he replied, his voice choked. 

“Cooper and I have been talking a lot; or more, he’s been talking a lot, I’ve been listening. He says I understand him and I know he’s got a crush and I’ve tried to explain to him that I’m not leading him on, that nothing will ever work between us because I’m his fucking youth worker and he’s still just fucking-eighteen, man and-” Joe trialed off with a frustrated sigh. “The other week, I was so fucking miserable. You’d told me you weren’t coming back for my birthday – I didn’t expect to see you turn up on my doorstep. I was convinced you’d found someone else in Vegas and so I called Cooper and we went for dinner and at the end of the night we kissed…” 

Jon stiffened in Joe’s arms, his chest tight at the thought of Joe’s lips against Cooper’s, his tongue in his mouth, his hands stroking along Cooper’s clean-cut jaw. He hated that image; it burned into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. 

“It was nothing. It meant nothing to me. I needed… I don’t know, I needed company. I’ve lived on my own since I was eighteen, but I sure got used to having you around pretty quick and then when I came back from Las Vegas, this place was so lonely. Cooper wanted more; he wanted to come back here and I couldn’t. I kept thinking about you. When I kissed him I thought about you and how different you both are and so I told him _no.”_

Jon thought guiltily back to those evenings with Ryan, pressed up against his shoulder in their usual booth at the dive bar. He thought about Ryan’s long, bony fingers wrapping around his dick as they lay out in his backyard; how he’d woken up in Ryan’s bed the next morning – albeit fully clothed, but nonetheless, who was he to pass judgment on Joe when his behavior in Las Vegas had been equally as shady? 

“That was it; there was nothing else. I know he’s got a crush. I know he’s only eighteen. I know I should be the sensible adult in this situation and just wash my hands of him; he ruined my birthday, you’re upset. It’s not worth that,” Joe noted and Jon sighed deeply into his chest, pulling back to fix his eyes on Joe’s. 

“I'm not upset - but thank you,” he said. “For being honest with me about him. Are you sure there’s nothing else?” 

“I’m sure. I promise." Joe ran his hand through Jon’s hair and kissed his nose. Jon pushed his hips into Joe’s purposefully, trying to flip him over onto his back.

Joe pushed him back onto the mattress, with a roughness that surprised Jon. Jon leant his head up, kissing Joe’s mouth and sliding their tongues together. “I don’t care about Cooper,” Jon said, breathlessly pulling back from the kiss. “I’m not angry. I just – promise me there’s nothing more to it; that you won’t fool around with him when I’m back in Las Vegas.” 

Jon was on his back, Joe laying over his chest and between his legs and their mouths connected again, hot, wet kisses shared between them. 

“I promise. I love you. I don’t _want_ anyone else.” 

Jon closed his eyes and let Joe kiss him, felt his lips travel down his jaw and over his throat, down into the crook of his shoulder. Jon’s dick was getting hard, his hips arching up off the mattress, the sensitive skin of his cock rubbing against the rough material of Joe’s pants. 

“Is there anything you need to tell me; before you go back to Vegas?” Joe breathed, pulling back momentarily to catch Jon’s eye. Jon shook his head automatically – what had happened with Ryan meant nothing to him. Out in Las Vegas, without Joe to hold his attention is was easy to get swept away in Ryan’s eyes, in the way his hair fell over them when he laughed, his pointy hipbones sticking out above the pants he wore outside of school. It was only because he was sexually frustrated. It wasn’t as if he _really_ wanted to fuck Ryan, to hold him down on the mattress and fuck his ass and make him come… Joe bit down on Jon’s nipple, eliciting a gasp and his dick twitched inside his boxer shorts as Joe ground down into him. 

“I’m not going to be angry if you tell me; if someone’s caught your eye out there. We need honesty, remember?” 

Yeah. _Honesty_. How could he forget? He could lie, claim that he’d been one hundred percent faithful during their time apart, it would save an awkward conversation now, but what about the future? What about when Joe came out to Vegas to visit; what was he meant to do, ignore Ryan for the time he was there? Joe was sharp; he’d twig that something was up probably with one quick glance. He sighed a long breath – it came out shaky, his eyes closed, Joe’s lips mouthing at his dick from over his underwear. 

“There’s this one guy.” 

Joe didn’t miss a beat. His hand slid up the leg hole of his boxers and palmed his cock, pulling it free from the confines of his shorts as he asked his next question. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Ryan. He’s- _fuck!”_ Jon sighed at the feel of Joe’s mouth around the head of his dick, sucking gently. “Please,” he begged. “Please don’t.” 

Joe pulled off, his fingers still wrapped around Jon’s cock as he jerked him off. “Are you really going to tell me to stop halfway through a blowjob?” Joe asked and he let go of Jon’s dick to remove his boxer shorts the rest of the way and then settled back on his knees to look at him. Jon felt exposed; totally naked and void of covers in front of a fully clothed Joe. 

“What does he look like, is he a teacher?” Joe asked. He lay back down on the mattress, shifting Jon back against the wall as they settled against each other again. Jon was glad of the shelter that dipping his head down against Joe’s chest offered. At least this way Joe wouldn’t see the blush on his cheeks. 

“Yeah. He’s an English teacher. He’s uh,” Jon paused – how had he been led down this road, he wondered. “Nothing happened between us.” Apart from the kiss and the almost-handjob and the flirting every Friday night; apart from being spotted sneaking out of his bedroom all those weeks ago, so that Brendon and Spencer and probably Haley all suspected there was something going on between them anyway. “We kissed,” he added, his brain jumping too far ahead of itself. “We took acid together and he tried to jerk me off, but I stopped him. He knows all about you.” 

There was a pause where neither of them said anything. Jon could feel his heart in his throat. Joe had asked him to be honest and there it was, all laid out in front of them for the first time – Joe’s dalliance with underage Cooper and Jon’s flirtatious co-worker always tempting him with brown eyes and soft skin. 

“You didn’t fuck him?” 

“No.” Jon shook his head. 

“Do you want to?” Joe’s hand was sliding down his back, along his ass crack and Jon sighed, his breath shaking through his body. 

Jon squeezed his eyes closed tight. “No.” 

He could feel Joe’s finger rise to his lips, slip inside Jon’s mouth for lubrication and Jon sucked him in, tongue swirling around Joe’s digit desperately, making it slick with saliva. Joe pulled his finger back, pressing his hand against his ass again and slipping his finger between Jon’s cheeks. Jon almost whined, thrusting his hips forward to meet Joe’s, the material rough against his bare dick. He rutted forward when Joe pushed inside, already so wound up, so turned on – all from the small movements Joe’s fingertip was brushing around the inside of his asshole, barely even first-knuckle deep. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to fuck him?” Joe asked again and Jon shook his head this time, his neck falling back to expose his throat to Joe’s lips and tongue and teeth. Joe was barely even touching him, and his dick was already dripping pre-come, leaking against Joe’s shirt. Jon moaned as Joe pushed his finger inside him to punctuate his question. 

“Yes. I only want you,” he groaned, desperately, his head flooding with pleasure – Joe’s body wrapped around him, pressed up tightly together on the single bed in the spare bedroom. It was Ryan’s face behind his lids – he pictured him sat on his hands in the chair across the room, watching them, watching Joe bring him to orgasm with just a few small movements of his fingertip. He wanted Ryan hard and leaking as Joe fucked him from behind, he wanted Ryan to watch him take Joe’s big dick in his ass, to see his asshole stretched around it. 

That thought alone almost sent him over the edge. He dropped his head forward and pressed his face hard into Joe’s shoulder. Joe grabbed his dick and started jerking him and Jon arched his back, trying to fuck himself on Joe’s lone finger. 

“Fuck, you’re frantic this morning, huh?” Joe commented. Jon nodded, and rocked his hips, in turn fucking himself shallowly on Joe’s finger and then up into his fist around his dick. “What’s gotten into you?” Joe spoke slowly into Jon’s ear. “You want this guy in work, huh? This English teacher; you want to fuck him in his ass, show him what a good dick-sucker you are?” 

Jon’s chest ignited, he was clenching muscles he didn’t even know existed. Joe was jerking him, drawing his finger out to slide a second one back in with it and Jon let go of the breath he’d been holding and swore Joe’s name into the silence of the room. 

“I wanna see it; wanna see you suck his dick all the way down your fucking throat, but you’re not gonna let him come in your mouth; you only do that for me.” 

“Fuck…” Jon felt the telltale feeling of his orgasm approaching in the muscles of his stomach, his dick throbbing in Joe’s hand, his asshole opening to let a third finger probe his entrance. 

“You want that; to get fucked by two men at once - me in your ass, him in your mouth? You ever done that before?” 

“No, I’ve never done it before – and fuck, I wanna be fucked by both of you… Both at the same time.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, babe,” Joe groaned and his hand left Jon’s dick to unpop the button at the top of his pants and unzip his fly. Joe’s cock sprung out, half hard and leaking. His took both their dicks in his hand and jerked them off, twisting his palm around himself and then Jon on every up stroke – and that’s what Jon needed. Joe’s fingers fucked his ass, thrusting inside and stroking deftly over his prostate. He was so close… 

“You’d look so hot, baby,” Joe breathed, jerking them both off roughly. “I wanna see it; your lips stretched around someone else’s dick, making you gag while I fuck you.” Joe’s fingers stretched inside him, rubbing flush against his prostate until his asshole was tightening around him, his come shooting out of his dick and over Joe’s fingers and t-shirt. Joe jerked him through his orgasm and was quick to use Jon’s come as lubricant for his own dick, pulling his fingers from Jon’s hole and grabbing his ass cheeks roughly between his fingers. 

Joe came quickly, groaning his orgasm out loud, pumping the last of his come over Jon’s softening dick. “Fuck,” he shook the word out of his mouth, and pulled Jon into his chest. 

Jon tried to breathe through it, tried to shake the image of him getting fucked from both ends out of his head. He didn’t know quite what had happened right there; whether it was all fantasy to get them off, hot dirty talk to increase their pleasure, but he’d said it – out loud; he’d said he wanted to get fucked by Joe and Ryan at the same time and Joe said he wanted to see it. 

He knew that fantasy and making that fantasy reality were two very different things. There was a difference between imagining a threesome in bed with your lover and going out and making that threesome happen; but the shared image was now scorched onto the insides of Jon’s eyes, making his chest burn. 

He loved Joe; he loved him so much that the thought of him making his moves on Cooper filled him with ugly jealousy – and maybe he was greedy, maybe he wanted too much of a good thing, but he couldn’t ignore what they’d just shared. Neither could his dick with the image still so fresh in his mind. 

Joe’s eyes were closed, his face relaxed as he sunk down into the pillow; his fingers still streaked with come, his dick softening, bobbing against Jon’s stomach. 

“I’m so tired,” he sighed, not bothering to open his eyes and he snuggled against Jon’s chest, his breaths warm against Jon’s skin. “Wanna see you, baby – taking two dicks at once.” His voice was so quiet and muffled in Jon’s chest, but Jon heard his words loud and clear, ringing in his ears. 

Sleep seemed to overcome Jon not long after he felt Joe’s breathing even out and his body turn lax on the mattress. He’d tossed and turned all night, his subconscious plagued by disorientating nightmares about huge, dark waves – all indicative of Jon’s own emotions, welling up, out of control, but with Joe’s warm body nestled against his, his breathing soft and quiet, he felt himself following suit, giving into the sleep which had only toyed with him last night. 

Jon didn’t dream. He dozed peacefully knowing the man he loved still had his arms around him. 


	14. Chapter 14

The song that Joe references in this chapter is [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKhqdmBC1kA) one - [Factory by Bruce Springsteen](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKhqdmBC1kA).

* * *

 “She’ll like you. You’ll be fine.” Jon stood on his mother’s doorstep and gave Joe a reassuring pat on the back. It was warm this morning and the sun was out; a beautiful, mild Chicago day – bright blue skies and no clouds. This type of weather had always been Jon’s favorite. It made him want to hike somewhere with Joe, maybe smoke some hash and fall asleep in the sunshine. It was t-shirt weather and Joe looked incredible this morning, Jon thought, regarding him with an awed sideward glance. His mother wouldn’t appreciate his tattoos; she was old-fashioned in that respect. She thought tattoos were for sailors and bikers and people who’d done time in prison – she wasn’t very with it. 

Jon loved them, loved the contrast between his skin and Joe’s, loved idly tracing over the designs on his arms with his fingertips. He looked so incredibly, effortlessly sexy and he’d told him so from the passenger seat of Joe’s car as they drove to his mom’s house. 

Jon had returned to Chicago with the intention of spending the majority of the weekend getting drunk and high with Joe; perhaps even snort a few lines or swallow a few pills – after all, his contacts in Nevada were limited to Ryan and Brendon’s weed growing pal, who’d unashamedly ripped them off last time, but so far, he’d been reasonably sensible. Last night had been a sobering experience and he was thankful he’d not accepted a line of coke from Gabe at the beginning of the evening – that whole fuss with Cooper would have put him on a terrible trip and certainly this morning his abstinence had paid off – no aching jaw and miserable comedown; barely even a hangover; at least not after Joe had brought him off so quickly earlier. He thought about it, very briefly as he saw his mother appear in view behind the frosted glass paneling of her front door. 

Earlier on, Jon had woken up a little before Joe, gently disentangling their bodies and sliding off the bed. Joe had stirred, only for a few moments before rolling over onto his stomach and settling back asleep.

He had dressed, pulling his jeans and t-shirt on before grabbing his phone and slipping out of the room. It was still early – almost 9AM on Sunday morning; he had only a few more hours in Chicago before he was going to have to fly back to Vegas - without Joe. His flight out of O’Hare left at 6.05PM and he was silently dreading it. He’d have to listen to Spencer’s wedding plans again and humor Brendon’s immature jokes – he’d have to look Ryan Ross in the face too, knowing he and Joe had just shared a new fantasy – one that involved him, on his back, Jon’s mouth on his cock. 

Jon had lit up a cigarette and sat at Joe’s kitchen table. He’d not talked to his mom in a long time – she didn’t even know he was back in Chicago and she’d only give him hell if she discovered he’d been home and hadn’t dropped by, so he’d given her a call and broached the subject carefully with Joe around half an hour later when he went to wake him up. 

“You don’t have to come,” he’d told him. “If it’s weird, y’know?” 

Joe however, hadn’t seemed all that fazed by the situation. Jon remembered meeting Patrick’s parents for the first time and how nervous he’d been standing on their doorstep, hoping that they’d like him and he wouldn’t embarrass himself, but Joe – calm and collected as ever seemed to be taking it all in his stride. They had taken a few bong rips before they left the house, so maybe that had something to do with how cool Joe seemed with the situation. Jon felt a little high. 

“What are you going to introduce me as?” Joe asked, nudging his elbow into Jon’s side. 

“Uh, probably _Joe_ ,” he teased back. What did Joe want; _boyfriend?_ They still hadn’t discussed that. Jon dwelt on it as they stood there together and he started to feel nervous, because what the hell _was_ he going to introduce him as. He was way more than a friend, but _boyfriend?_ They’d not even talked that through. 

“Alright, smartass,” Joe smiled, shaking his head, but they couldn’t discuss it further, because Jon’s mother was opening the door, beaming at him and ushering them indoors.

“Oh, honey!” his mother enthused, wrapping her arms around Jon’s middle. “I wish you’d have told me you were coming back home, I could have prepared your room – when are you headed back?” She seemed to regard Joe briefly from over his shoulder, but looked up at Jon expecting an answer all the same. 

Jon loved his mom; he really did, but she was also liable to be a bit too naïve about everything. As far as she was concerned, the sun shone out of her only son’s backside. Even when he was a teenager, getting into trouble and being escorted home by the cops for being drunk in public, even when he’d stay out all night at fifteen, sixteen years of age, she still thought the world of him – none of it was ever Jon’s fault, not the drugs or the underage drinking or the risky choices he’d made as a youngster – it was all because he was just hanging around with the wrong crowd – William and Gabe and Joe… 

That’s why she’d liked Patrick so much; because he was sweet and sensible and thoughtful and they visited more often together as a couple than Jon ever had as a single man. 

As Jon got older, he realized that his mom only really had him. She’d spoilt him as a child; his father had given him money to make up for the fact that sometimes over a year went by without him making contact. She was probably the sweetest woman he’d ever known - he could be shooting heroin in public restrooms, giving blowjobs to addicts for five bucks a go and she’d still earnestly swear that he was just going through a rough patch, dishing out money in the vain hope that he’d get his act together. 

“I’m flying back out to Vegas later this evening,” he told her, her hug crushing him – she was lonely. He’d always wanted her to get a boyfriend, to start dating again after his dad left. To the best of Jon’s knowledge however, she’d remained single since the breakdown of their marriage twenty years ago. 

“Oh, Jon,” she pouted. “Why don’t you ever want to spend time with me?” She pulled back from his hug and looked at him expectantly. He glanced over at Joe. 

“I’ve been staying with Joe, here. It was his birthday yesterday.” Jon placed a gentle palm between his shoulder blades and pushed him forward slightly. “You remember Joe, we used to hang out together when we were teenagers,” he reminded her and she smiled unsurely, before seeming to recall at least his name. She’d once branded him a bad influence. Joe had been slapped with a DUI at nineteen and she liked to bring that up as hard evidence that they shouldn’t be hanging out together. 

The two exchanged pleasantries; Joe was charming and affable, first shaking her hand and then winding her in for a hug and Jon observed them both carefully, hoping for the best. His mother couldn’t fail to be charmed by Joe, he thought – he had this aura about him that made people immediately like him. He complimented her home and she blushed and hit his arm and flashed Jon a look that screamed; _new boyfriend? Fill me in!_

“Are either of you hungry? I was just about to make a sandwich,” she told them, leaving the hallway to enter the kitchen. “You’ve lost weight, Jon. Are you sure you’re eating?” she continued, calling out behind her shoulder. 

Every time he saw his mom she told him he’d lost weight and asked if he was eating. Jon had remained around the same weight since he was a teenager. He looked at Joe with a roll of his eyes and Joe grinned, his hand settling on Jon’s shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. Joe’s hand stroked down the length of his arm and their fingertips linked briefly before he pulled away. 

Jon led the way into the kitchen – sandwiches would be great, he told her and she asked him how Las Vegas was treating him and how he was settling into his job. He made it out to be great, _Las Vegas is awesome,_ he told her. _Job’s going so well, it’s so great to be back teaching,_ he lied, because it wasn’t; it really wasn’t. He hated it. He hated Las Vegas for the sole reason that it was two thousand miles away from Joe. He hated his job because no matter how well he and Ryan got along, no matter how much he told himself that things could certainly be a lot worse, he couldn’t shake Joe from his mind during those quiet moments in class or those even quieter moments lying in bed alone every night. 

“What is it you do for work?” Jon’s mother asked Joe once she’d finished making their lunch and set her favorite china plates down in front of them. Jon had noticed ten minutes ago a picture of him and Patrick still stuck on his mother’s refrigerator and he kept scanning his eyes across to Joe to try and see if he’d noticed it too. It had been just over four months since he’d found out Patrick had been cheating – she’d had plenty of time to take it down. They looked happy, sure and Jon hated to admit that it had once been his favorite picture of them together – Christmas day almost three years ago; Patrick looked handsome. Back then he could have sworn they’d be together forever; that they’d just age into this old gay couple who’d be in love for fifty or sixty years. _Fucking idiot -_ he still couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. 

“I’m a youth worker.” Joe smiled easily and Jon had to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from beaming over at him. He couldn’t help it – that huge grin that plastered his face every time he looked at Joe. He was so completely and utterly perfect that he wanted to just say say _fuck it,_ throw his hands up, miss his flight back to Vegas, fuck off his job and abandon his car at McCarran International parking lot. 

“I spend my days preparing anti-drugs talks and trying to persuade teenagers that underage drinking is no fun.” Joe’s chin was in his hand; he glanced over at Jon briefly and Jon’s mother laughed. 

“Oh, then maybe you’ll be a good influence on my son,” she said. “He’d probably have benefitted from your guidance as a teenager.” 

Jon scoffed and rolled his eyes, getting up from the table to clear their plates. He most certainly would not have benefitted from guidance from someone like Joe. He’d have been like Cooper, ten years ago – completely, blindly in love. He couldn’t blame the boy; Joe was something else. 

He stood in front of his mother’s refrigerator and pulled the photo of him and Patrick from the door, noticing briefly how goddamn happy they’d been back then. He folded the photograph in half and threw it in the trash. 

“What do your parents do?” he heard his mother ask Joe. There was a pause enough in their conversation that Jon felt compelled to change the subject. 

“Did you talk to dad recently?” he asked, turning back towards them sat at the kitchen table. Joe looked completely unfazed by the whole situation and his mother seemed a little taken aback – his parents had barely kept in touch since their divorce. When Jon was a kid they were amiable towards each other, if only to keep him happy. They’d speak only to discuss Jon’s grades in school, report cards, birthday arrangements, but as he’d grown into an adult, they barely talked. 

“Well, it must have been a good few months ago – around the time that you – around April time, I think. Why?” she asked, looking confused. He didn’t know why, he’d just needed something to distract her from asking about Joe’s parents and asking if she’d spoken to his father recently was the first thing to pop into his head. 

“No reason. We visited him; Joe and I. When we drove to Las Vegas – stopped by to say hello. I don’t get down there enough, but he’s good. Happy.” 

He remembered back to the night they’d stopped by his dad’s house on their way out of Illinois. His father had been the first person to ask if they were together and Jon remembered laughing - hardly fazed by the topic of conversation at all - that maybe they could be together – if only he wasn’t leaving Chicago. 

His mother nodded and then turned her undivided attention back to Joe. “So, umm – your parents? What is it they do?”

“Mom-” Jon tried to interrupt. He didn’t need Joe feeling like he had to field questions about his lousy fucking parents. 

“I can answer questions about my mom and dad, Jonathan. I’m a big boy,” Joe told him from the kitchen table. “My mom didn’t work; not after she had me and I don’t know what she did before that. My dad worked in a factory that made like,” Joe wrinkled his nose as if trying to remember, “some kind of thing _.”_ He let out a small laugh. “When I was a kid, I used to think that old Bruce Springsteen song, _Factory_ was written about him.” After pausing for a beat, Joe’s eyes turned downcast. Jon noticed him rubbing his fingers on the wooden indents of his mother’s kitchen table. His mother wouldn’t know that song, but he sure did. It kind of made his heart ache.   

It was a strange feeling. He’d never wanted to look after anyone quite as much as he wanted to look after Joe – not that he felt like Joe needed it, but maybe they both did - mutual support, long-term commitment, knowing that no matter what, there was still that one person who’d just _be_ there. Jon looked at the time on his mother’s microwave – it was almost midday – he had a matter of hours left with Joe.   

“Do they live in Chicago?” she asked and Jon kept quiet this time, folding his arms as he watched Joe closely from his position at the sink. 

“Nope.” That was the end of the conversation, because Joe stood from the table and brushed down his pants. “I hope you don’t mind if I pop outside for a smoke, Mrs. Walker?” Joe asked and stepped around the chair towards Jon. That cocksure, charming bastard; _Mrs. Walker!_  

“Oh, please. Call me Tina. Go ahead, hun, you can smoke out on the back porch.” 

Jon laughed in surprise. His mom always gave him shit about smoking – always. She hated it and accepted the fact that he smoked grudgingly. Jon fixed his hand at the small of Joe’s back and pushed him towards the back porch, tugging the screen door closed gently behind them. 

“Your mom’s nice,” Joe remarked, lighting up. He brought his lighter to the tip of Jon’s cigarette and then pushed his hand into his pocket. _Fuck, he looked good –_ those skinny pants and that confident stance. He pulled his cigarette from between his lips and exhaled its fumes. Jon wanted to step up against him, twist his fingers through his hair and make out with him, like a teenager, on his mother’s porch. 

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said, “if those questions – you know? 

Joe shook his head. “I’m coming round here with her son, she’s probably gonna wonder. Wants to make sure I’m good enough for you,” he teased. “I expected it. I don’t mind, y’know – answering questions about them. I’ve spent my whole life making up shit about them; that was one of the few times I’ve told the truth.” 

Jon smiled sadly and then stepped up against Joe, regardless of what his mother might see and think. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said as Joe pulled his hand from the pocket of his jeans and looped it around his middle. 

“Then don’t.” 

He groaned. “It’s not that easy.” 

“Nothing’s ever easy with you, huh? You like to complicate everything to an alarming degree.”

He was about to argue his point when he realized that Joe was right. Joe had been the honest one since they first hooked up. He’d been the one to first say all that romantic crap, snuggled together in motel rooms. He’d always made the first moves – that first kiss in the bathroom all those months ago at William’s birthday and the time, the morning after they’d fucked without a condom for the first time, that morning they’d run into Cooper at the coffee house before Joe went to work – he’d leant over and kissed him when he said goodbye. He’d been so reserved this whole time, so worried of rejection and getting hurt and now, finally, after months, he realized that this was worth all that. 

Falling in love with Patrick had been so easy, they’d just segued from being friends, straight to being partners with no real effort and now, at almost twenty-eight he had commitments to somewhere other than Chicago; an apartment in Las Vegas and a job he hated. He was never going to enjoy being a teacher; maybe he should go back to college, he thought, learn another trade. 

“What are we going to do when I go back?” he asked, leaning his head against Joe’s shoulder. 

“What do you want to do?” Joe raised his cigarette to his lips and Jon watched him take a long, deep drag, pushing it down into his lungs and then exhaling. 

There was a small pause. Jon could have answered that he didn’t know, something lame and middle-of-the-road; maybe posed the question back at Joe and they could have danced around the subject of commitment for another few hours, but he rubbed his hand down Joe’s chest and said, “I want to be with you.”  

“Officially?” 

Jon nodded. “Officially.” 

“Man,” Joe sighed. “I wish I’d talked you out of taking that fucking job out there. I knew I’d regret it, but dude, I just wanted you to be happy. I thought that after you’d moved away we’d both move on, that it’d be easy and it’s not; it’s fucking shitty. I’ve spent twenty-nine years successfully avoiding any kind of commitment and now, just my luck, I fall in love with one of my best friends as soon as he moves cross country.” 

They leant against each other in silence for a few moments and when Jon brought his cigarette to his lips, it had burned away between his fingers, the ash crumbling to the floor at his feet. 

“I’ll come to Vegas for your birthday,” Joe said, his hand sliding up between Jon’s shoulder blades and into the back of his hair. “Maybe there we can talk about it a little more. You know, about what we’re going to do next. I want to be with you too, fuck yeah, I do, but – I can’t do the long-distance thing, Jon. Not in the long-term. How about we just make promises to each other? I promise I won’t see Cooper outside of work again-” 

“You don’t have to promise not to _see_ him,” Jon interrupted, almost in a panic at being deemed a crazy, possessive boyfriend. “You’re obviously helping the kid out a lot. I can’t imagine not having my family around when I was his age, just – promise you won’t – _you know;_ hook up.” 

Joe laughed, pulling Joe around so they were chest to chest. “I can promise that, no problem. You mean _everything_ to me. I don’t think you quite realize.” He kissed Jon’s mouth and then drew back quickly. “ _You_ promise _me_ not to drive yourself insane worrying about things while we’re apart. I _love_ you, so stop getting so wound up about it. I’m more than aware of _your_ baggage,” he said, his fingertip running over Jon’s bottom lip. “Just like you know about mine and I’m prepared to do everything I can to get you to trust me, to make you happy, so – don’t _worry_ about it.” He ended with a shrug. 

Jon closed his eyes and nodded. It was three weeks until his birthday. Three weeks of muggy nights spent alone, smoking shitty weed in his rundown apartment. He wound his arms tightly around Joe and sighed. “Okay. I promise.” 

“It’s like - you’ve got all these emotions that you don’t know what to do with so you don’t even acknowledge them.” 

“Alright. Fucking hell,” Jon sighed, overdramatically. He was going to nip this conversation in the bud before he ended up with a harsh dose of self-realization on the back steps of his mother’s porch. “Dr. Phil, here.” He gave Joe’s chest a gentle pet and stepped out from his embrace. “Let’s uh, make our excuses and head out, huh?” he leaned up to press his lips against Joe’s ear. “Go back to your place? I want you to fuck me so I can feel it for days. A nice reminder of you, every time I sit down, hmm?” 

He left Joe to finish his cigarette and threw a wink his way as he stepped back into the house.

 

* * *

“So?” 

It was Monday morning and Jon had almost forgotten about Ryan, about how Joe had made him admit his fantasy of having them both fuck him at the same time. Now that Ryan was stood in front of him, brown eyes boring into him, it all came flooding back and Jon fumbled with the notes in his pigeon hole, trying to distract himself from thinking too much about the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and the way his slacks hugged his ass, because _damn._ He’d had a great weekend of sex, so his mind was on fire. 

“So...?” Jon repeated, shifting through papers. _Bake sales, poker tournaments, a letter from the Principal informing them of the time and date of the school baseball game._  

Ryan rolled his eyes and angled his hip against the lockers, an amused smile on his face. “How did it go - back in Chicago? How did it go between you and Joe?” 

“Good,” Jon nodded. He hummed and then broke into a smile at the memory of Friday night; those honest I Love You’s spoken after sex and then again on Sunday evening, stood at the departure gate with Joe’s arms wrapped tightly around him. 

 _There more weeks,_ Joe had told him. _Hold in there, baby._

“Yeah, it was great, actually.” 

“ _See_ , I told you!” Ryan jabbed a triumphant finger into Jon’s arm and broke into one of those dazzling smiles of his – the one that made Jon’s stomach drop and his heart clamp up inside his chest. It was just a stupid crush; he knew he wasn’t going to act on it – at least, not without Joe’s permission, but it wasn’t a crime to love someone _and_ find someone else attractive – that’s why it was called fantasy, he reminded himself as he glanced from the depths of his locker toward Ryan – and then quickly back again, because _damn it, Joe. What the fuck was he doing putting those ideas into his head?_ “Bet it sucks to be back, huh?” 

“You got that right.” Jon let out a bitter laugh and pulled his books from his locker. “I did fuck all marking all weekend, dude. I am backed _up_.” 

“Should have asked me. I’ll do anything for a price.”

Jon flashed Ryan a gracious smile. “Really?” he asked, laughing. A threesome would probably make things incredibly awkward between him and Ryan – he liked it how it was now; fun, flirty, a little bit cheeky. It reminded him of how things had been between him and Joe before they started sleeping together – or perhaps how things _could_ have been. Jon was pretty hung up on Patrick at the time. 

“Yeah. Hundred bucks. That’s my price; for anything.” 

Jon gave another small laugh and shook his head. “Well, Mr. Ross, I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“So, was he surprised? Did you tell him you loved him?”  

From behind Ryan’s shoulder, Jon spotted Spencer approaching, a huge grin on his face as he walked towards them. Jon didn’t know where he got the energy to be so enthusiastic first thing on Monday morning. Being back in Las Vegas sucked and the first few hours of school on Monday had always filled Jon with unease. _Another day, another dollar_ he and Patrick used to sigh at each other at the end of the day. Jon allowed himself a smile at the memory. 

“Welcome back!” Spencer enthused and he gave Jon’s shoulder a small shake, his blue eyes burning with excitement. He obviously had news he wanted to share and without another question about how Jon’s weekend in Chicago had gone, he made his announcement. “Haley and I set a date for the wedding. I finally got her to realize that the day’s, you know – about us. We’re tying the knot here; in Las Vegas in December. Haley and I’ll have been together ten years by then – can you _believe_?” He looked at Ryan for confirmation that no, he most certainly could not believe and then turned pointedly to Jon. “You should come, but uh, Haley needs to know if you’re bringing a Plus One, so she can get to work planning the reception. Brendon’s bringing his _Internet Girlfriend,_ Sarah,” he informed them, using air-quotes and rolling his eyes. “So, d’you have anyone in mind? I’ll need a name, ASAP, Haley’s like going Bridezilla on me already.” 

“Uh,” Jon fumbled his words at being put on the spot. “I don’t know.” He glanced at Ryan cautiously; as if Ryan was going to do anything other than raise one amused eyebrow in his direction. “I guess I’ll have to ask around.” 

“There’ll be plenty of bridesmaids, if not. Haley’s got a few single girlfriends – so, you _know_.” Spencer’s eyebrows raised and Jon laughed incredulously, noticing Ryan trying to surpass a laugh. 

“Spencer,” Jon shook his head. He really couldn’t believe Spencer could be so unaware of something that should’ve been obvious by now. Spencer had been there the morning he'd been caught slipping out of Ryan's bedroom and was still so unwitting to the things going on around him. Maybe he just enjoyed living in his little Spencer-and-Haley sized bubble and had no time for getting involved in other peoples’ relationships and orientations. “I’m not really interested in _bridesmaids_.” 

Spencer shrugged. “Well, suit yourself. Haley’s friends aren’t _that_ bad. How was Chicago? Did you get to see your friend?” 

“Yeah,” Jon nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Spencer was ridiculously oblivious, it was as if he’d just been plucked from some past, dark decade and placed slap bang in the middle of the Las Vegas suburbs.  “I’ll catch you two at lunch. Tell Brendon we’ll meet at my car.” 

 _My car_ had quickly become synonymous for _getting high_ between the three of them. Even Spencer knew that and seemed to regard them all with disdain as he sat in the back seat, behind Jon, complaining about the smell and calmly reminding them that they shouldn’t, they _really_ shouldn’t get high during school hours. 

That lunchtime, Jon took deep, heavy tokes until he coughed. Back in his classroom, he’d slunk down low behind his desk and prayed to god no one would ask him any questions. 

He was sat there thinking about Joe and his mom. She’d seemed completely taken with him, she’d even asked him what all his tattoos meant, pointing to them and nodding her head as Joe explained them to her, with an ease and aplomb that Jon almost envied. Before they’d left, Joe had excused himself to the bathroom and Jon’s mother had been onto him before they’d even heard Joe climb the stairs. 

She’d asked if they were an item, if Joe was his new boyfriend, whether or not he was planning to move out to Nevada so they could be together and Jon had hedged his bets, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to keep the conversation light and easy. 

“I like him – an awful lot, but it’s early days yet,” he’d told her and she’d pouted at him and slapped his knee good-naturedly. Before Joe returned to the kitchen, she’d wound Jon into a hug and said; _I hope you choose to do whatever makes you happiest. Money’s not the be all and end all, Jon._  

As he sat in his classroom that afternoon, catching up on the marking he’d not completed that weekend, his phone buzzed through with a text, vibrating loudly on his desk. Every pupil looked up at him expectantly from their text books and he’d stared out over his class until they all looked back at their books and resumed copying out the diagrams he’d asked them to. 

As he reached for his phone, he expected to see a message from Joe; something flirty, a little dirty. If it wasn’t Joe then maybe Ryan. Or his mom – or William or Gabe, but it wasn’t any of those people and Jon’s stomach dropped when he recognized the combination of numbers scrolling across his screen. _Patrick._

 _Cud hav told me u were back in Chicago. We cud have gone for a drink._

Jon let out a sigh and blinked at the words on his screen. He’d not heard from Patrick in weeks; not since those texts he’d randomly received after Patrick and Pete had bumped into William, Gabe and Joe at the bar one Saturday lunchtime. He hadn’t replied to those texts and he had a right mind to simply delete Patrick’s message and completely forget about it, but he tapped out a reply and sent it before he could talk himself out of it. 

 _I was home for Joe’s birthday, so was pretty busy._

Jon clutched his cellphone in his hand and scanned his eyes over his students. He was angry – _fucking Patrick thinking he could get under his skin like that, what the fuck? We could have gone for a drink!_ He scoffed internally, glaring down at his phone when it vibrated in his palm. 

 _Oh. Still tryin ur luck with that one, r u?_

Jon gave his class another quick cautionary glance and then tapped out his reply under his desk. 

 _Yeah, things are going good. Thanks for asking. Early days yet, but my mom likes him so that’s always a bonus, huh!!_

Fuck him, Jon thought. Fuck him and his stupid, snarky little comments. He knew what was up. Patrick had probably seen something on Facebook, him and Pete probably had an argument and he text Jon hoping to ruin his good mood. 

Last night, before they left Joe’s place for the airport, Joe had pulled him into his shoulder as they lounged on the couch. He’d taken a selfie of the two of them together. Joe’s lips pressed gently against Jon’s cheek, blue eyes looking into the camera – maybe the photo had been posted online already; maybe Patrick had sat there shaking with rage at the sight of his ex-boyfriend moving on with someone taller and with a much bigger dick. Jon liked to think so. He sat there picturing the scene until his phone vibrated again. Jon slid his finger across the screen. 

 _Holy smokes, moving fast! Good luck to u both. Ur probably gonna need it._

Jon text back with a little smiley face and the word ‘ _thanks’_ followed by two exclamation points. He wasn’t letting Patrick reel him into his web. He wasn’t going to take the bait that he was so indiscreetly waving in front of Jon’s nose. Jon knew Patrick’s game and he wasn’t falling for it.  


	15. Chapter 15

“My ex has been texting me.” 

It was Friday evening. Jon was sat in Cosmo’s, the dive bar with Ryan and Patrick’s texts had been on his mind all week. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept the messages a secret from Joe, they weren’t particularly incriminatory – just a handful of pointless texts a couple of times a day. Things like; _what’s up?_ and _how’s work?_ Jon had replied to a few of them at the start of the week, cautiously constructing an almost perfect message every time – guarded and cold, but not rude. There was no evidence of anything other than two people who used to date exchanging a couple of catch-up texts, but by Wednesday lunchtime, Patrick’s messages started to go ignored. Jon felt guilty about how much thought he’d been putting in to his replies and having to deal with his ex-boyfriend’s emotional warfare was starting to bum him out. 

By Thursday, Patrick was sending him extensive texts complaining about Pete, talking about how lonely he got sometimes. By Friday, he was telling Jon how much he missed him. Messages like, _I messed up_ and _I miss you_ and _I love you._ It was a huge impracticality and Jon didn’t want to deal with a mopey ex-boyfriend who’d only _just_ begun to realize that he’d made a mistake diving head first into a relationship with Pete Wentz, but nonetheless, on Friday afternoon, he’d sent Patrick a message telling him to back off. 

 _I don’t know what you’ve seen or heard but you need to give this a rest, dude,_ he’d replied and then turned his phone on silent and shoved it to the bottom of his bag as he left school for the weekend. 

“Oh? Saying what?” 

Jon raised his cigarette to his mouth and held it between his lips as he dug his cellphone out of his pocket. There were, by now, dozens of unaddressed texts from Patrick. Jon brought them up on the screen and pushed his phone toward Ryan over the table. 

 _Been thinking Pete and I should take a break._  
 _Nothing’s the same without you._  
 _I lie awake at night thinking about how I messed up._  
 _Please just think about it._  
 _I miss you._  
 _Been thinking about you so much these past few weeks._  
 _Can’t stop thinking about you._  
 _When you come home next, please call me._  
 _I love you.  
_ _Please just talk to me!_

“Shit, dude.” Ryan shook his head and slid Jon’s phone back to him. “All these men, falling at your feet. How _do_ you do it?” He took a sip of beer and Jon watched him, lips puckered around the bottle, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He shifted his gaze towards the bar. They’d become quite the regulars now; he was starting to recognize the other local patrons and perhaps Ryan was right. Even Joe had told him he had a tendency to overthink things. They were only text messages after all – and Patrick lived in fucking Chicago; he sure knew how far away Chicago was. It wasn’t as if they were going to bump into each other on the street or at the local supermarket. _Ignore him,_ he told himself, _and certainly don’t let yourself get swept away by Patrick’s mournful messages because it’s certainly not worth risking your relationship with Joe._

Joe had told him not to worry about things; to accept the things that happen and address them and move on. Patrick was probably just fucking with him anyway – he’d found out that Jon was definitely hooking up with Joe and it had pissed him off enough that he felt the need to get involved. As the old saying goes; ‘you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.’ 

“Do you want to get back with him?” Ryan asked. 

“No,” Jon answered, but he felt he had to elaborate. “No, I don’t. I mean, I’d like to _talk_ to him, face-to-face, y’know? It’s not like I’m still in love with him,” he said, because he wasn’t, he really, _truly_ wasn’t. Not anymore. “But we hardly even discussed all this when we broke up; I was way too angry, he moved on so quick. I guess it’s a matter of wanting answers to all those question I’ve been left wondering about.” 

“But do you _really_ want those answers? What good’s that gonna do you, man? Finding out the real reason your ex-boyfriend cheated on you is _not_ going to be an enlightening experience; trust me, it’s going to make you feel like shit. And besides, what would Joe have to say about that? Doubt he’d be too stoked, dude.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon agreed with a sigh, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray and slugging the last of his beer. “Another round?” he asked, slipping out of the booth and adjusting his pants. Of course Ryan wanted another round; the night was still young and they’d not even got around to properly discussing Jon’s trip to Chicago yet. Spencer was always around at lunchtime and Brendon always followed them to Jon’s car to get high. They’d hardly had a minute alone to catch up since Monday morning. 

While he was stood at the bar waiting for the bartender to grab another two beers, Jon felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He thought about ignoring it; perhaps it was Patrick, drunk and miserable in Chicago. A part of him hoped that was the case; that Pete had left, that they’d had an explosive row that couldn’t be reconciled. The other half hoped that Patrick wouldn’t involve him in that any further than he already had. 

When he pulled his phone out of his pocket, it was Joe’s name on his screen and he breathed a small sigh of relief before the exhilaration thrummed through his body; his nerves tingling with anticipation at seeing his name. Jon slid his finger across the screen and pressed his cellphone to his ear. 

“Hey!” 

The woman behind the bar, an old lesbian with a crew cut was mouthing at him; _four dollars fifty, please, hun,_ and he placed a ten on the bar, left his tip and pushed back across the floor toward Ryan. _I’ll be back in five,_ he told him, placing the beers on the table and heading towards the door. 

“Are you at a bar?” he could hear Joe asking, barely audible above the loud chatter and the Lady Gaga song playing on the jukebox. 

“I’m at a bar, yeah. Man, that’s better I can hear you now, what’s up?” Jon stepped out into the muggy evening air, leaving the noise of the bar behind him; the nights were getting cooler; the evenings were even becoming pleasant. 

Jon and Joe talked every night, but he still felt like a teenager in love every time his name flashed up on his phone. 

“Not a lot, dude. I’m at home, smoking, thinking of you. Who you out with?” 

“Just a couple of the guys from work,” he said, with a wary glance back to the door of the bar. Joe didn’t need to know he was out _alone_ with the man he’d admitted to wanting to fuck. 

“Yeah? Is your boy Ryan there?” he asked. 

“Yeah. He’s here – or well, he’s inside. I’m stood outside so I can hear you, it’s so loud in there!” He wasn’t so much trying to change the subject, but he was trying to distract Joe from asking any more questions about Ryan Ross. 

“You never did tell me what he looks like. Is he hot?” And yes, Ryan was hot. Jon had thought that from the first moment he saw him and if Joe was attracted to Cooper, he’d probably be attracted to Ryan too, because both those boys had cute, young faces and tall, skinny builds. “I’m stroking myself. Why don’t you give me something to work with here?”

The image weaseled its way into the forefront of Jon’s mind and he tried not to let it affect him – the image of Joe sat at home, legs spread wide, his magnificent dick in his hand as he jerked off. 

“Did you just call me in hopes of me talking dirty to you until you come?” he asked, kicking his feet along the sidewalk and around the corner of the building. 

“That’s the only reason I ever call you, dude,” Joe chuckled. “Nah, don’t be dumb, but - if you’re offering… I’m here, all alone in Chicago with a fucking stiffy; there’s no one else I can call.” 

“Yeah?” Jon turned to face the wall and picked at the flaking paint of the mural painted on it. The same wall he’d backed Ryan up against after their first night drinking together. He checked his surroundings quickly – all was quiet, the sound of the jukebox from the bar just a distant, dull thud. He needed to be quick, he didn’t want to leave Ryan alone for too long. “I’d love to be there so I could sit on your big dick, clench my asshole around you and ride you hard until you come inside me. It wouldn’t take long at all, I’d be so tight for you.” 

Jon imagined it as he stood out of the sidewalk around the side of the bar; he could almost feel the slow drag and burn of Joe’s dick inside him, could feel his balls tighten at the image he was creating for them both. 

Joe made a sound of agreement from the other end of the line. “Are you going to sit on my dick in front of your friend Ryan when I come to Vegas for your birthday?” he asked and the image almost made him groan, out loud, into his cellphone. Jon didn’t know how to reply, so he stayed quiet, but Joe pushed forward with another suggestion. “Do you want me to fuck you in front of him, so he can watch your face when you come.” 

Jon dragged his knuckle down the painted brick and closed his eyes. His cock was semi-hard inside his pants. 

“I’m stroking my dick, thinking about you. Man, I wish you were here, I’d forgotten how good you taste, how goddamn fucking tight you are – sometimes, when you come, you clamp down so hard it feels like you’re gonna rip my fucking dick off – and it’s always that that gets me off… Love feeling you around me – so tight, feels so damn good. _Fuck_ ,” Joe trailed off into a choked sigh and Jon could hear it, hear him jerking his dick now, hard and fast, his words hot and heavy in his ear. 

Jon’s breathing was heavy and silent; it suddenly felt as if he couldn’t quite get enough air into his lungs. He should have been over his unbridled lust for Joe by now, but still, it was as if he woke up all these feelings inside him that he didn’t really know how to deal with; things he’d not felt in a long time. He couldn’t even remember ever feeling this way about anyone else before; not Patrick, not anyone. 

“When we see each other again, I’m going to drop to my knees as soon as we’re alone and let you fuck my mouth and come down my throat,” Jon told him. He heard Joe’s shallow groan in his ear, closed his eyes to imagine him sat splayed on his couch, head thrown back, neck exposed. “I’ll finger you ass at the same time and then swallow every single drop you give me.” 

“ _Fuck_ …” Joe sighed and then he was cursing Jon’s name as he breathed through his orgasm, his moans turning to silence after a few moments. “Dude, that was exactly what I needed. Thanks.” 

Jon laughed, his fingers running along the painted edge of the wall. “Any time,” he smiled, his own half hard cock twitching inside his pants. 

“Yeah, literally _any time,_ huh?” Joe commented. “I just called you when you’re in the middle of a bar and you stepped away talk dirty to me. It _must_ be love,” he laughed. 

Jon hummed in agreement. “Yeah; I hate to be an asshole and cut and run, but I should be getting back. I’ve got a beer inside that’s getting warm.” 

“No worries, baby. Call me tomorrow, okay?” 

“I will. I’ll talk to you soon,” he said, adjusting his pants around his dick. “I love you.” The intonation at the end of his words turned his statement into a question and he screwed his face up, embarrassed that from Nevada, the words seemed so much harder to say. 

“I love you too, Jon Walker.” A pause. “Have a good night. Behave yourself,” he warned and after another few moments and a few more sweet goodbyes, Jon disconnected the call and pushed his cellphone into the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled his mind out of the gutter enough to remember poor Ryan, sat alone inside the bar, but he lit up a cigarette and hung around outside for another couple of minutes – or at least until his boner had gone down.


	16. Chapter 16

“Man, I wish I could find a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, for that matter,” Ryan Ross sighed two weeks later as they sat in their usual booth at Cosmo’s. Ryan’s chin was in his palm and he looked forlorn. He was acting quite dramatic but perhaps it was even a little bit endearing, because Jon had never taken Ryan to be man dead set on finding a partner. 

It was late – or early, depending on which way you wanted to look at it. They’d been drinking for hours and Jon had hit the wall three beers ago – he felt bloated, over drunk and the majority of other locals had long since left the bar hours ago; either to go home or to continue drinking somewhere a little nicer, a little closer to the Strip. There were only a handful of patrons left - two depressed looking bikers, who’d been propping up the bar since before Jon and Ryan arrived and a couple of desperate hangers on, stood at the jukebox, empty beer glasses in their hands - and then there was Jon and Ryan, struggling to finish the last of their own drinks. It was nearing 3AM and Ryan had obviously drunk enough to divulge Jon his fears of being single. 

“Maybe you’d find one if you didn’t spend every Friday night hanging out with me,” Jon told him. “Maybe we need to start going to different bars,” he suggested. “I’ll be your wingman.” 

Ryan smiled and then dropped his eyes to the table. Jon was trying to keep the conversation light and cheery because _Wild Horses_ had been playing on a loop over the speakers for the past fifteen minutes and Jon was close to getting up and changing the track, because Ryan seemed to be getting deep on him. 

“You know, it’s just – Spencer’s got Haley and Brendon’s got this new girl, Sarah and you and Joe – even if he _is_ all the way in _Illinois_ … and then there’s me; eternally single Ryan Ross; unable to get a girl _or_ a guy for longer than a few weeks. Do you have any single friends in Chicago?” he asked, looking more than slightly dejected. 

Jon laughed. He guessed Travis was single – now that Gabe seemed to be spending most of his time with William, but he didn’t know what the deal was between those three – at one point, Jon could have sworn they were in some kind of mutually agreed, three-way relationship with each other – and besides, Travis was unlikely to leave his post in Chicago to come party for Jon’s birthday in Las Vegas next week; he had money to make and he had weed to sell. 

“You’ll find someone,” Jon told him from across the table, because Ryan _would_ find someone – he was good-looking and funny and intelligent. He had a decent job and his own house and was a good kisser – maybe not quite a good as Joe, but still… Jon had been thinking about Ryan’s mouth for the past half an hour, but it didn’t mean anything and he certainly wasn’t going to lean over the table and kiss the guy. 

Joe, William and Gabe were all flying down to Vegas next Friday afternoon and Jon couldn’t wait. He grew excited at the thought that by this time next week, he and Joe would be together again and it was hard not to start counting down the hours. Every time he thought about it he felt like a kid at Christmas; his stomach lurched, his heart leapt into his throat and he buzzed with excitement. 

Spencer was still being incredibly dull about the whole thing regarding Jon and _his friend, Joe_ and he had invited him and Haley with caution at first, because he wasn’t sure how someone like Spencer would get along with someone like Joe or Gabe. Joe would probably humor Spencer if only to keep the peace with Jon, but Gabe was uncouth at the best of times and Jon couldn’t imagine him curbing his tongue if Spencer was to come out with something obliviously offensive and mildly homophobic but _fuck it,_ he was fed up of keeping his guard up in front of Spencer Smith and perhaps if he saw him and Joe wound around each other next week, he’d finally get it and stop suggesting Jon hook up with Haley’s friends. 

Brendon had gingerly asked him if he could bring Sarah. She was visiting from LA that weekend and Jon had said, _sure, the more the merrier._ Brendon seemed to have fallen head-over-heels for this girl in California and would show Jon pictures of her on his phone in various states of undress. 

“Well, it’s not like you’re gonna jerk off to them or anything,” Brendon had told him when Jon asked how Sarah would feel if she knew he was showing her off like that to his friends. “And also,” he’d continued, raising one eyebrow, “she has _nothing_ to be ashamed of.” 

Every time that Brendon brought up her name in the conversation – which was almost rivaling the amount of time Spencer spent talking about his fiancée - he swore he was going to marry her. They’d met for the first time not even two months ago, but Brendon crossed his heart that he was going to make an honest woman out of her. She was coming to Las Vegas to meet his parents and Spencer had tautly made Brendon promise that he wouldn’t marry Sarah before he married Haley because _seriously_ , he told them, _Haley will lose her shit._ It was the first time Jon had ever heard Spencer cuss. 

“Maybe you should find someone online, like Brendon did,” Jon suggested. “Join a dating site, meet someone that way.” 

Ryan just sighed. “I’m not _that_ much of a fucking loser.” 

“Well. You’re going to be the only single person at my birthday, so I beg to differ.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Ryan moaned, kicking Jon under the table. Jon laughed and Ryan shook his head before allowing him a small smile. “Just because you’ve got an exciting, new relationship now. All that romantic shit you did for him back in Chicago was all my idea, anyway,” he told Jon. “I should at least be getting some credit for that.” 

“Credit for what?” Jon laughed. “Searching out a restaurant on Yelp? I actually think that’s what sealed the deal. Joe was incredibly appreciative.” 

“I bet he was.” Ryan held his gaze until Jon looked down at his glass of beer and brought the final, flat sip to his mouth. “Does he fuck you or do you fuck him?” 

The question kind of made Jon’s heart pump a little harder. He wished he had more booze to distract himself with, his hands felt restless wrapped around an empty glass. “A bit of both.” Jon swallowed. “But usually he, uh. Usually he fucks me.” 

Ryan blinked slowly, his eyes hazy and unfocused. It was probably about time for the two of them to vacate the bar and climb into separate cabs, Jon thought, trying to ignore Ryan’s gaze and the way he was currently chewing on his lip. 

“I’m drunk,” Ryan informed him after a moment. He waved a dismissive hand in front of his face. “I’m sorry for this; for asking you that, I just,” he sighed and licked his lips and Jon wanted to press forward and stop anything else coming out of Ryan’s mouth with a kiss. He felt more than a little guilty about that. “It’s been a while; you know, since I’ve had any _action.”_

“How long?” The question was out of Jon’s mouth before he could even stop it. Him and Ryan spent a good portion of their time together talking about sex, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of their attraction to each other by asking Ryan personal questions like how long it had been since he last got fucked. 

Ryan blew out a breath that ruffled his bangs. “About six or seven months.” 

Jon processed that information for a second and then shifted on the bench seat of the booth. “Guy or girl?” he asked. 

“Guy. I thought being interested in men would be a helluva lot easier than dealing with women and their crazy emotions and reverse psychology, but it’s not. Men are just as confusing.” 

“Yeah,” Jon agreed. “We’re all just humans at the end of the day.” He shrugged and then glared at the two men stood at the jukebox, putting more money in as the first few chords of _Wild Horses_ started up again. He turned back toward Ryan and tried not to let the music affect the mood of the conversation anymore than it already had. “So, why don’t you just go out and hook up with a stranger at a bar – if it’s a sex thing, like you say it is.” 

Ryan huffed a big sigh from deep inside his chest and shrugged one slender shoulder. “Because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and I’ve only ever slept with three guys, a handful of times each and it’s been _two_ years since I last had sex with a woman, Jon – two _years!_ And even then I didn’t enjoy it. I guess I’ve spent the majority of that two years telling myself I’m still bi, because I look at girls sometimes and I really _do_ want to fuck them and then it comes to crunch time and it’s like, _dude_! It’s like there’s some mental block there or something. I can’t do it with women because it doesn’t turn me on and I can’t let go with guys because it’s always been – you know, kind of lousy for me.” Ryan sighed again and Jon watched his brown eyes scan around the bar. “And now this guy who I’ve been sleeping with on and off, it was getting better, but I don’t know.” He shook his head and then fixed his eyes on Jon. “He’s worse than me – super religious parents, want him to settle down with a girl, which I know he will, eventually. Probably sooner rather than later, too. It took me _years_ to admit – even just to myself - that I was probably bisexual and now I guess I’m not even that anymore.” 

“Why is it such a big deal?” Jon asked. “It’s not what defines you, y’know? Being gay, it’s just one small facet of who you are.” 

“I guess,” Ryan sulked with a shrug. “I’ve just never really had anyone I could talk about this with.” 

“Well, you’ve got _me_ now, so make full use of me while I’m around.” He was being suggestive; baselessly suggestive but suggestive nonetheless. Ryan gave a small smile as the song came to another end and finally another one started. Jon didn’t recognize it until the first line of song and he nudged Ryan’s foot with his and motioned to the jukebox. 

 _Up in smoke, that’s where my money goes;_  
 _in my lungs and sometimes up my nose._  
 _When troubled times begin to bother me,_  
 _I take a toke and all my cares go up in smoke_. 

“These two dudes knew what they were talking about,” Jon said with a sigh. He was drunk and tired, he wanted to fall asleep in his bed and sleep until late the next morning. If he smoked some weed he'd be out like a light. This time next week, he’d be falling asleep next to Joe. “I think it’s probably time to head home though.” Jon pushed himself up out of the booth and stood, waiting expectantly for Ryan to follow. “Too much beer for one night.” He stretched and rubbed his belly. 

“I’ll see ya. I’m going to hang around for one more drink.” 

“Dude,” Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to leave you alone in an empty bar at,” he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time, “twenty past three in the morning so you can cry into a beer and feel sorry for yourself. Come on.” He beckoned Ryan out of his seat and watched as he moved unsteadily to his feet. He’d never seen Ryan quite this drunk before. 

Jon guided him towards the door, waving a friendly farewell when the bartender shouted goodbye. Ryan was dragging his feet along the wooden flooring of the bar. The dude was wasted. When they pushed outside, the streets were quiet, one streetlight flickering distractingly above them and Jon gave Ryan’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he scanned the block for a taxi. 

“Are you going to be okay getting home?” he asked. Out in the fresh air, Ryan was barely even able to walk straight. They’d been going one-for-one all night, but the drink had affected Ryan a lot more than it had Jon. Ryan gave an unsure nod and then shook his head. 

“I uh, was thinking…” Ryan’s words were slurred, his speech slow as he turned in to face Jon. Jon hadn’t expected it; despite thinking about it for a good part of the night; Ryan’s face suddenly pressing forward towards Jon’s, lips open, searching for a kiss, his body encroaching with little warning, into Jon’s personal space.

Jon pulled back automatically, bracing both his hands on Ryan’s shoulders to push him back slightly. Jon’s eyes were open, but Ryan’s weren’t. When Ryan pushed purposely forward again, Jon let their lips touch, but he didn’t react; he didn’t respond with a kiss of his own; just stood there awkwardly, eyes open and blinking while Ryan’s lips moved dryly, just the once, against his and then pulled back and turned away. Ryan wiped his nose like a sloppy drunk. 

“I’m sorry,” he moaned. “Oh my _god_ , I’m so sorry.” He started walking down the sidewalk and it took Jon a moment to snap his brain back into gear, but he slow-jogged after Ryan a few moments later. “Please - I know; don’t say anything. I’m so embarrassed. I’m-” Ryan paused, looking over at Jon for a brief moment before staring back at the ground. “I’m so sorry, I really am. I thought – _fuck_ ,” he finished downheartedly. 

“Hey. Don’t worry. We can forget about it,” Jon told him, giving his back a quick pat. 

“No, I’m so embarrassed.” 

Jon shook his head. The attempted kiss had caught him off-guard. That’s why a threesome would never work, because of feelings and awkward conversations in school the next day. The fantasy where he could kiss Ryan with no consequences was certainly hotter than its very different reality. It wasn’t as if he’d refused the kiss because Ryan was too drunk. He’d pulled back because during that split second between seeing Ryan’s lips pucker and then push forward, he’d thought about Joe. He thought about Joe’s wet eyes when they told each other they were in love. 

“Let’s get you into a taxi,” he said, stepping forwards onto the curb and hailing a passing cab. It would have been slightly more convenient if they shared a ride, but Jon wasn’t so stupid as to suggest something like that. Sharing a ride would result in Jon awkwardly inviting him up to his apartment; so he opened the cab door, bundled Ryan inside and smiled wide – _don’t worry, you tried to kiss me totally out of the blue, but that’s cool. Everything’s fine! Not awkward at all;_ said his smile. 

“I bet you hate me,” Ryan mumbled through the open window. 

“Nah. Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. He didn’t really mean that – that attempted kiss had certainly made things a little complicated between them. All this time, Jon thought it was innocent flirting and he’d certainly had his fair share of fantasies about Ryan, but had never considered putting them into motion. When he watched Ryan talk, he imagined those lips against his – or, more frequently, around his dick, but he’d never have actually pressed ahead and done it. There was only something wrong with being attracted to someone you shouldn’t be when you tried to act on it, Jon had told himself - and Ryan _had_ , and Jon had stopped him because flirting he could handle, no problem at all, he enjoyed the harmless flirting, but a drunk and mopey Ryan expecting something more was not something he wanted to be dealing with at three thirty on Saturday morning. 

“I’ll see you on Monday then.” Ryan’s face held the same blank expression that he had back when they first met. Jon straightened up on the sidewalk and gave a professional nod. 

“See you Monday. Get him home safe,” he told the cabdriver, hitting the roof of the vehicle and watching as it pulled away and sped off down the block. Jon sighed heavily and bit his lip. 

 _One more week,_ he told himself. _One more week and Joe’s going to be here, in your bed, telling you he loves you._ Jon scrubbed a hand through his hair and fumbled with his cigarettes. He mumbled a tired _fucking hell_ to himself as he took a long, calming drag. 

From inside the bar, he could hear the jukebox replaying _Up In Smoke_. 


	17. Chapter 17

Jon was ridiculously wound up. Stood in the airport on Friday afternoon, he could hardly wait to wrap his arms around Joe again. The flight from Chicago had landed almost twenty minutes ago and the domestic arrivals gate was teaming with people pushing through the doors, pulling luggage carts and looking slightly bleary, all ready for a weekend of gambling on the Strip. Jon kept rolling on his heels, bouncing on the spot to try and keep a cap on his exhilaration, but it was useless; it was bubbling inside him to the point where he thought he’d burst if he didn’t see his three friends wandering through the doors sometime soon. He felt sick with nerves and his hands were shaking. He felt like a teenager waiting to meet his favorite rockstar. 

During the week, he and Joe had talked every night, sometimes for hours about the most mundane of shit, but Joe had been full of dirty promises about what he was going to do to him when they saw each other again and on Joe’s recommendation, he hadn’t jerked off for over a week and a half; so needless to say, his mind was firing into overdrive right now. A whole weekend with Joe lay ahead of him and he was actually disappointed that they’d have to be social. If it were up to him, they’d have booked a nice hotel and spent the entire time having sex. 

He kept scanning the crowd and nervously checking his phone. Time was dragging and Jon was starting to feel nauseous. Maybe he’d missed them, maybe they’d been held back by security. He needed a cigarette to calm his nerves and looked despairingly at the _No Smoking_ sign stuck to the pillar to his left – he was probably stood in the only place in Las Vegas where he couldn’t smoke indoors. He cracked his knuckles and checked his cellphone again. _Nothing._  He’d been waiting for half an hour before he spotted Gabe. _They’d made it!_ His three Joe-less weeks were finally over and they were getting to spend the weekend together getting high and drinking in the casinos. 

Gabe was the first to swagger through arrivals, closely followed by William, both of them looking like they’d just stepped out of a commercial for some expensive cologne – Gabe perfectly groomed and impeccably dressed and William his usual, effortlessly attractive self - and then he saw Joe following behind and, _fuck, he looked good._ He paced towards the three of them and gave an acknowledging wave. 

“What’s up, birthday boy!” Gabe enthused loudly, wrapping his arms around him and leaning back far enough that Jon’s feet left the floor. “Oh my god, _please_ put out as soon as humanly possible for Trohman. He’s driving me fucking insane,” he whispered in Jon’s ear as he set him back down. 

Jon laughed, catching Joe’s eye from over Gabe’s shoulder. “Good to see you again, man.” Jon gave Gabe’s arm a friendly squeeze and graciously accepted a duty free bag full of tax-free booze and a _happy birthday_ from William. William wound him into a loose hug, giving his cheek a quick peck but Jon was already moving toward Joe, unable to keep the smile from his face. 

“What’s up,” Joe asked, opening his arms wide for Jon to step into. “Saying hi to these fools before me, huh?” His arms closed tightly around Jon and he closed his eyes, pressed his face into Joe’s shoulder and let go a deep sigh. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. Jon’s hand fisted in Joe’s t-shirt and they were holding each other so tight he could feel Joe’s heart against his own. Gabe was probably watching them both, waggling his eyebrows or rolling his eyes, but Jon didn’t care. He hoped he’d learnt his lesson the other week back in Chicago. Gabe Saporta just needed to know when to keep his big mouth closed on occasions. 

“Missed you so much.” Joe spoke quietly into his ear, tightening his embrace even more around Jon’s shoulders. 

“Fuck, me too,” he breathed, pulling back slightly to smile to Joe. He wanted to kiss him; he wanted to kiss him so much - but not right here, not in the middle of the airport. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop if he started right now. “You look amazing,” he told him, stepping back and looking Joe up and down – and he did, in a t-shirt that showed off his tattoos and tight black pants and pointy boots. He was clean-shaven, his hair a little longer and Jon rubbed at his chin and flashed an appreciative smile. “No scruff,” he said. “Looks good.” 

He kind of wished William and Gabe weren’t there, watching them. He knew Gabe would have some smart-assed response to their show of affection and if they’d been alone, Jon would definitely have kissed Joe; maybe not a make out, but he’d certainly have pressed their lips together as a way of greeting. Joe deserved that much, at least. 

“How was your flight, guys?” Jon asked, stepping away from Joe’s side, but relaxing into the hand he held at the back of his neck, fingers hooked gently around his trapezius. 

“It was great! Enjoyed a couple of G&T’s on the plane. Fucking Las Vegas, guys!” Gabe whooped, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve been looking forward to this weekend since you moved out here, bro. Not quite as much as Mr. Trohman, here,” he teased as he ruffled Joe’s hair. “But fucking A! Chicago boys gon’ get messy this weekend,” Gabe grinned as they walked together towards the exit. He paced a few steps ahead of Jon and Joe to loop his arm around William’s neck - maybe to give the two of them chance to press a chaste kiss against each other. Joe looped his arm low around Jon’s waist and before they stepped out into the dry heat of the desert, he pressed his mouth against Jon’s ear. 

“It’s _so_ good to see you again, babe. I missed you _so_ damn much. Almost didn’t book a return flight,” he informed him with a grin.   

Jon laughed and elbowed Joe’s ribs. The lone thought made his brain domino toward Joe moving out to Nevada, the two of them buying a nice house together and falling asleep together every night. It was his favorite pipe dream and he tried not to let it linger. “I wish you hadn’t,” he smiled, his heart pounding as Joe pressed a kiss against his temple. “Quit your job. Move out here; we could make a go of things.” 

“White picket fence and a couple of dogs?” Joe teased, pulling their bodies close. “The American dream, huh?” 

“It could be.” 

Joe laughed and tightened his arm around Jon’s middle as they walked towards the parking lot. “One day,” he said – and Jon chose to believe him.

 

* * *

 

The boys were staying in the Excalibur and much to Jon’s disappointment Joe was sharing a room with William and Gabe. 

“What the fuck, I’ve not seen you in three weeks – you couldn’t get your own room?” he complained when William and Gabe weren’t listening. Joe had just shrugged and made a point about the cost, especially after paying for flights and Jon had tried to hide his disappointment that Joe hadn’t thought ahead. How were they going to get any time alone together when William and Gabe were going to be sleeping in the bed next to them? 

“There’s always your apartment,” Joe had suggested in the elevator, on their way up to the room. Jon had rolled his eyes. The Excalibur was one of the cheapest hotels on the Strip – it was also the most gaudy _and_ one of the furthest down Las Vegas Boulevard from Jon’s apartment but he wasn’t going to let it ruin his evening – even if he _had_ pulled out all the stops for Joe’s birthday the other week.    

Gabe, in his usual hammer and tongs fashion, was keen to get the weekend started and no sooner than they’d inspected the room – a modest double bedroom with two neatly made queen beds overlooking the bright-topped turrets of the casino below – Gabe was jostling them all back out into the hallway, keen to take advantage of the casinos’ free drinks. Jon and Joe hadn’t managed to spend even two minutes alone when they settled down at a table in the hotel bar and Gabe ordered cocktails for the group. 

He was glad to have his friends here with him to celebrate his birthday. He’d been living in Las Vegas for just over two months and he’d got used to his life there by now, but he missed his friends and the Chicago scene. It felt good to have them around; even Gabe with his boundless enthusiasm for hardcore drinking. At least he’d been sensible enough to move to a city people wanted to come and visit. There was never really an excuse _not_ to want to party in Vegas for the weekend. 

“So, Jon Boy, what’s the plan?” Gabe asked, clapping his hands together. “You should have birthdays more often. I _love_ Las Vegas.” 

“Dude, try spending a fucking summer here,” Jon told him. Joe’s hand was on his knee under the table, Jon’s on top of it, fingers linked. Jon explained to them that it was going to be just the four of them tonight and tomorrow evening they’d meet his friends from work – Spencer and Brendon and their respective partners and Ryan, of course. He didn’t go into details, especially about Ryan, but Joe’s hand moved from his knee and up his thigh, his fingers pushing between his legs. 

Things with Ryan had been awkward to say the least. On Monday morning, Ryan had completely blanked him in the staffroom, in a way that was so obvious, even Spencer had wrinkled his nose and asked if they’d had some kind of falling out. By Tuesday, Ryan had managed a few minutes of guarded conversation but by the end of the day, Jon was fed up with being made to feel so awkward and had caught Ryan by the wrist as they passed each other in the corridor after last class and told him to quit being ridiculous. _It’s all cool, no worries. You were drunk right? I’d almost forgotten about it until you started acting so weird on Monday morning,_ he’d told him, which was a lie – he’d definitely not forgotten about it, how could he? - but Ryan was acting like a teenager and he needed to grow up. After a small amount of convincing that it really didn’t matter and that it definitely wasn’t that big of a deal, they’d patched things up and moved on and not another word had been spoken about the attempted kiss since. 

Jon hadn’t mentioned it to Joe; he didn’t feel the need to drop into their evening conversations a casual _by the way, that guy Ryan…_ but he _had_ told him about the bombardment of texts he’d recently received from Patrick. They’d dwindled off after his first week back in Las Vegas and Jon hoped he’d got the message, but within the last few days they’d come through thick and fast; most of them enquiring what Jon was up to for his birthday. One of them had even suggested it was a shame he already had plans, otherwise he’d have looked into booking a flight – and that was the message that had tripped Jon out enough that he’d told Joe about it. _Yeah, it’s a real shame you cheated on me and I don’t like you, otherwise I’d totally invite you to Vegas for my birthday,_ he’d replied yesterday afternoon. Jon hadn’t heard from Patrick since. 

When Jon had told Joe about the texts, he’d gone very quiet and Jon felt the need to make light of them and pass them off as nothing, despite the fact that he’d almost driven himself to despair thinking up catty replies to Patrick’s messages. 

“It’s not like I’m forgiving him for what he did,” Jon had told Joe over the phone. “He text me when I got back from your birthday, saying we could have met up for a drink and I shut him down. I said I’d been with you all weekend. You can read the texts when you get here, if you want,” he’d offered, “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“I don’t know why you give that fucker the time of day,” Joe told him. “Seems he’s seen you’ve moved on and doesn’t like it. What a prick.” There had been a pause in the conversation before Joe spoke up again, cautiously. “You’re not actually going to meet up with him next time you come back to Chicago, are you?” he asked. The question had made Jon’s stomach twist, because maybe Joe was a little bit jealous. 

“Of course not. I don’t have anything to say to the guy now.” Jon actually had plenty he wanted to say to Patrick. The first thing was a big thank you – _thank you for fucking up so spectacularly. I hope it was worth it,_ because really, if it hadn’t have been for his affair with Pete, he and Joe would never have got together. Jon had told Joe that once and Joe had confidently assured him that they would have. 

Back in the bar, after their forth (or was it their fifth?) cocktail, Joe was starting to get a little handsy under the table, grazing his hand over Jon’s crotch, digging his fingers into Jon’s inner thigh until his hand was fully between his legs, rubbing him through his jeans. When William and Gabe vacated the table to get another round in at the bar, Joe leant into him and grinned. 

“You’ve been in Vegas too long, buddy. Your poker face is faultless.” 

Jon returned his smile and wound his arm around Joe’s neck, leaning forward to peck his lips. He didn’t care about the looks it’d earn them or if Gabe saw and said something smug – it was meant to be his birthday weekend, things were meant to go _his_ way and as of yet, they hadn’t even been able to properly say hello. Gabe had dragged them from the airport, to the hotel, down to the bar and now Jon was five drinks deep and Joe’s hand was between his thighs – he was feeling horny. 

“I can’t believe you’re sharing a room with Bill and Gabe,” Jon said, shaking his head and wrapping his fingers around Joe’s wrist to pull his hand away. 

“Yeah, that was Joe being seriously fucking Jewish when we were sat at Bill’s organizing this trip,” Gabe loudly informed him from behind his shoulder, pushing another ornately decorated cocktail under Jon’s nose. 

“That’s not true,” Joe defended himself with a slow shake of his head, throwing Gabe a dirty look. “But it _was_ way cheaper that way,” he said, stretching his hand out to rub the back of Jon’s head and brush through the loose curls with his fingers. 

“Christ, look at you two lovebirds,” Gabe commented with a roll of his dark eyes. “Joe, my friend, you definitely should have forked out the extra – what, hundred bucks on your own room, because if I hear you two going at it tonight, I will not be amused.” Gabe took a deep drag on his cigarette and pouted. 

“That’s why you and Bill need to get blackout drunk in the casinos tonight. Drink up, fuckers,” he told them when William returned to the table. “ _L’Chayim_!” he toasted, raising his drink. Jon broke into a big smile as his friends all followed suit, clinking their glasses together. He’d missed them all – but no one as much as Joe. When Joe's hand fell back against his knee, he felt his desire for the man burning at the base of his dick. He pressed his palm against Joe’s hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles.

   

* * *

 

“We’ve not had five minutes alone all night!” Jon’s voice was raised over the beat of the dance music in the club as he gripped Joe’s shoulder and leant his mouth against his ear at the bar. Jon’s head was hurting and the club wasn’t really his scene – perhaps five or six years ago, perhaps if he was on drugs, but not now; not tonight. He _wasn’t_ on drugs and the incessant _thump, thump, thump_ of the dubstep remixes the DJ was playing would have been a lot more enjoyable if he was. 

They’d been lured to this particular gay club under false pretenses. After a few hours gambling at various casinos, they’d wandered down the Strip together and had been handed a flyer for a nightclub called _Throb,_ which claimed to be the biggest and best gay nightclub in Las Vegas. Gabe, who was a sucker for anything with the words _biggest_ and _best_ tagged onto it, had spoken enthusiastically to the young club promoter in Spanish and had turned triumphantly back toward them and claimed they were on the guest list and could expect a free bottle of champagne waiting for them when they arrived, which was the only reason Jon had agreed to go along in the first place. All he really wanted to do was go back to Joe’s hotel room to get fucked. 

When they did arrive at the club and were forced into a line with similarly gullible gay tourists, all holding their flyers that promised free entry, Gabe had scratched his head and claimed, _my Spanish_ is _a little rusty. Maybe we had our wires crossed._  

The strobes kept catching Joe in just the right light and Jon had been desperate to drag him off to a quiet corner of the club and make out with him since they arrived, but Gabe had been eager to keep the shots of tequila flowing and he and William had been at his side all night, drunkenly reminiscing about old Chicago times, Gabe complaining about how much money he’d already lost in the casino, William poking his ribs and commenting on how miserable Joe had been since his birthday three weeks ago. 

Finally, on Jon’s recommendation, William and Gabe both pushed their way to the middle of the dance floor and he’d been watching them for the past ten minutes; William and Gabe, the two of them wrapped around each other, making out. 

“We should get out of here,” Jon shouted above the computerized grind of the music. 

“Huh?” Joe handed him a bottle of beer and pointed to his ear. “I can’t hear you!” he yelled back. “Do you want to go dance?” Joe nodded over in the direction of the dance floor and Jon shook his head and tried to pull Joe’s ear down so he could make his suggestion again. He didn’t want to go dance, he wanted to fuck but as Joe was leaning into him and Jon was opening his mouth to speak, they were knocked apart by a careless body falling into them, knocking Jon’s untouched beer straight out of his hand. 

“Hey, dude, what the fuck? Look where you’re going, jackass!” Joe shouted above the thud of the music. It was a few seconds later that Jon looked up to glare at the culprit; his beer bottle was still spilling out foam on the floor and the man who’d bumped into them, glanced over his shoulder at them with an unapologetic look. The man had expressive dark eyes and full lips. 

“Brendon?” 

Hearing his name called seemed to startle the man, because he span around, glanced nervously between Jon and Joe and then down at the puddle of beer at their feet. 

“ _Oh_ my god, I’m so sorry. I- I’m sorry.” Brendon looked just as surprised to see Jon as Jon was to see him, his dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his eyes so wide Jon could see the whites around his irises, pupils blown, his jaw tense. Brendon Urie was most definitely on drugs and Jon knew of very few apparently straight men who made a habit of doing drugs in gay bars. 

“That was a full beer, man. D’you wanna be more careful next time?” Joe scolded. Jon elbowed him hard in the ribs. 

“I’m seriously so, so sorry. I must have lost my balance. I’ll buy you another drink.” Brendon moved to pull his wallet out of his pocket, scrubbing his hand hard over his face and stepping over the beer bottle towards them. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jon asked as Brendon moved between him and Joe up against the bar. “I thought your girlfriend was coming down from LA?” 

“Yeah. She is. Tomorrow. Uh.” He looked over his shoulder and gestured vaguely with his finger. “I’m just here with a couple of friends. Guys I used to go to school with, y’know? They, uh… they’re gay, so... that’s why _I’m_ here.” 

“Oh,” Jon nodded once and then knotted his brows. “So, where are your friends?” he asked, nodding a thank you when Brendon passed him a new bottle of beer. Brendon took a little while to answer. He was doing the same thing Jon used to do as a teenager when he had to converse with his mother while on drugs – he was trying very hard to hide it, but the evidence was written all over his face. 

“Just…” he scanned the club. “They must be in the back somewhere. I uh,” he stumbled over his words and when Jon looked over at Joe, he was regarding Brendon with a similar perplexed look. “Anyway, what’s up, man? Happy birthday!” Brendon slung an arm around Jon’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. 

“Yeah, good, thanks. This is Joe, my friend from Chicago. Joe,” he shouted, winding his arm around Joe’s back. “This is Brendon.” Joe moved to shake Brendon’s hand and Brendon pulled him in for a friendly hug. “He teaches music at school.” But it was so loud they could hardly hold a normal conversation. The three of them fell into an awkward silence and Jon took a big sip of his beer to imply the only reason he wasn’t talking was because he was really thirsty and the music was too loud and not because he couldn’t think of what to say to his apparently straight co-worker. 

“Are you okay, dude? Did you take something tonight?” Jon asked, leaning over to shout above the noise. 

“Yeah. I’m good. Take something? No, I’ve not taken anything.” Brendon shook his head and Jon couldn’t help laughing at the man stood in front of them. Brendon’s hand came up to his face again and he rubbed at his nose. 

“Are you sure, man? You’re looking ever so slightly coked-out.” 

Brendon laughed and rolled his wide eyes. “I should take this. My girlfriend!” he mouthed, waving his phone by his ear. “See you tomorrow, huh? Really looking forward to it.” 

Jon gave him a thumbs up and watched Brendon make a quick dash for the exit as he pushed his cellphone into the back pocket of his pants. That was weird. He chewed his lip and stared after him and then turned back to Joe, who was winding him into a hug. 

“Whatever he was on, I want some,” Joe said, his hands holding tight onto Jon’s hips, pulling their bodies together. “But I’d rather get you back to the hotel room and fuck you – hard and fast.” His lips pressed along Jon’s neck, up against his ear and then down his jaw to his mouth. Jon kissed back – _finally_ ; he wanted to do this all night and he let himself melt into Joe’s arms as they made out at the edge of the dance floor, the music thumping around them. 

They kissed like that, fitting into each other perfectly as they moved in time to the beat. Jon’s cock was hard when he eventually pulled back, scanned the club to see William and Gabe still oblivious to anyone other than each other on the dance floor and nodded his head in the direction of the exit. This time Joe understood and he pulled him through the crowd of bodies, out into the cool Nevada night. 


	18. Chapter 18

The hotel room door had barely even closed behind them before Jon had Joe’s t-shirt up and over his head, his hands dragging down his bare chest as they kissed up against the wall.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed, one hand fisted in Joe’s hair, the other around the back of his neck, their lips pressing together desperately as they undressed. 

After leaving the club they figured they had some time before William and Gabe even realized they were gone – and even when they did they’d probably call as a warning they were on their way back to the room. 

They'd both hopped into a taxi back to the hotel and Jon couldn’t wait to get Joe into bed. He knew it’d be some quick, rough sex – Joe had been teasing him all night and he’d been waiting for this for three weeks, so he knew he wouldn’t last long after Joe finally pushed into him. 

The thought made his stomach drop. He imagined it as he fumbled Joe’s belt open and unzipped his fly – him on his hands and knees for Joe, and Joe kneeling behind him, his hand guiding his dick into his asshole, steady and fluid. His balls twitched at the mental image and his heart beat a little faster inside his chest. He yanked Joe’s pants down his hips and sank to his knees in front of him. 

“Fuck, Joe, I love you. I love you so much.” The words were so easy now that Joe was here with him, stood in front of him and leaning his weight against the wall as Jon jerked his soft dick to erection and rubbed the head over his parted lips. 

“You won’t believe how much I missed you – every night, just- _fuck!”_ Joe cursed when Jon’s mouth closed around his cock. “Oh my god, Jon, why the hell did it take us this long?” 

Jon didn’t know what Joe was talking about; whether he was referring to them hooking up in the first place or how long it had taken for both of them to admit they were in love, but Jon didn’t care – not now; not now he had Joe’s dick in his mouth and was mere minutes away from getting fucked. Jon felt Joe’s hand at the back of his head _;_ he’d missed that; the control that Joe liked to take in the bedroom. It surprised Jon that he’d so willingly switched roles since they hooked up. He’d always been the dominant one in his and Patrick’s relationship, but since getting together with Joe, he’d turned into a bit of a slut for his big dick. 

Jon sucked Joe’s cock into his mouth and down his throat with ease, reveling in the pressure of the hand at the back of his head. Joe didn’t push him forward though; just carded over his hair with his palm and then let his hand slip down to grip Jon’s shoulder. 

“You’re way too not-naked,” Joe told him, taking a fistful of Jon’s shirt and pulling him up. “Let’s get this off,” he said, hurriedly working the buttons with one hand as their lips clashed together again. Passion. Lust. Desperation. “Fuck, dude…” Joe pulled back from the kiss, glaring down between their bodies at the buttons of Jon’s shirt, his fingers fumbling them undone – not quick enough. Still with three buttons to go, Joe had Jon’s shirt off, up over his head and thrown down on the floor. “Bed,” Joe almost growled at him. “ _Right_ now.” 

Jon walked Joe back towards the closest hotel bed, still kissing, their mouths wet - Joe shuffling his feet with his pants around his ankles. When they reached the edge, he sat down, pulling Jon into his lap and then down gently against the mattress. The move was almost loving as Joe ran his fingertips down Jon’s side, making him shiver. 

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for three weeks,” Joe told him, kicking his shoes and pants off and throwing his socks down by the side of the bed. Joe was fully naked and looked incredible, but Jon’s dick was straining against the confines of his pants, painfully hard inside his jeans. “Take these off,” he said, pulling at them and moving off the bed. “And close your eyes.” 

Jon quickly unfastened the buttons on his jeans and kicked them off around his ankles. When he was naked, he lay still on the mattress and closed his eyes. He could hear Joe at the foot of the bed, the zip of his travel bag and the rustle of paper and he squeezed his eyes closed tighter, blocking out the bright lights from the lamps either side of the bed. Jon was very aware of his breathing, of his heart beating hard inside his chest and he wrapped a loose palm around his bobbing dick and waited with anticipation for Joe’s touch to return. 

He felt like he’d been waiting a long time – much longer than it should have taken Joe to hop off the bed and find his lube and he blew out a nervous breath and threw his arm across his eyes. 

“No peeking,” Joe warned and Jon was just about to nod in understanding when the shutter sound of Joe’s camera clicked loudly into the silence of the room. Jon’s eyes shot open and he glared at Joe who was watching him from behind the camera of his cellphone. “I said no peeking,” he smiled, fixing Jon with his gaze. 

“And I didn’t agree to you taking a photo of me naked,” he said, even though he didn’t bother to cover up when Joe flashed another picture and another before he lay down next to him and kissed his shoulder. 

“You just look so sexy,” Joe told him, teeth nipping gently at his skin. “Wish I could film every second of this; of what I’m about to do to you.” 

Jon arched up under Joe’s touch. He dragged his hand down his chest and over his stomach and then finally around his dick. Jon keened at the movement of Joe’s hand moving up and down his cock, his mouth open and wet and searching for a kiss as he pulled Joe against him. 

“Do you want your present now or later?” Joe whispered into his ear, moving his hair back to kiss him. 

“What have you got me?” 

“Here,” he said, pushing a brown paper bag-wrapped package into Jon’s chest. “We might have to make a stop by your apartment tomorrow to use them though. Don’t want Bill or Gabe to catch us…” Jon could feel Joe’s smile against his ear. It was almost as if that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. After all, Joe seemed to get off on the whole exhibitionism thing – the blowjob behind that bar in Chicago, the fact that he kept asking Jon if he wanted Ryan to watch them fuck. Jon fumbled with the package; it was heavy and he blindly ripped the bag open and focused his hazy eyes on the sleek, black packaging. 

 _Weighted Orgasm Balls,_ the box said – and that was all Jon needed to read, before he let out a shallow groan and dropped the box onto the bed. 

“Are you gonna let me push those inside you? Walk around all day with them in your ass, moving around, huh? Fuck, Jon, they’re going to feel so good.” Joe raised his fingers to Jon’s mouth and Jon sucked compliantly and moaned – anything for Joe; absolutely anything he wanted, Jon was down with. If Joe wanted to fill him with anal beads and watch him walk down the Strip with them nestled inside him, then that was cool but right now he needed Joe’s hand or mouth or anything around his dick. “Fuck, that’s gonna be so fucking hot. I can’t wait to push each one inside you and then pull ‘em back out; you’ll come so fucking hard - fucking hell.” Joe’s hand wrapped around his dick and he jerked. “I wanna just lube you up and slide right in. Open your legs for me, baby.” 

Jon complied, opening his legs wide on the bed so that Joe could sit between them, he closed his eyes at the crack of the cap of the lubricant and sucked in a breath when Joe fingered his asshole. 

“Did you fuck anyone since my birthday?” he asked and Jon shook his head. He knew that wasn’t the question he was actually asking. The question he was asking was; _do we need a rubber?_ “That’s a good boy.” Joe leant towards him, his mouth pressing against Jon’s ear and he cooed. “I love you. Hey, are we a couple now or what?” 

Jon moaned, Joe was pushing his finger inside him, straight in with no resistance and he pressed fluidly down to the knuckle and stretched against his prostate. 

“Yes!” he sighed. “I want that.” He did – he really did. He was thankful that Joe was asking, because three weeks ago, they’d left that question hanging between them on his mom’s porch and Jon had returned to Las Vegas none the wiser as to what was going on between them. They loved each other, they’d both admitted they wanted to be together, but they also lived two thousand miles apart and anyway, _boyfriend_ seemed like such an inferior title for someone like Joe – perhaps because Patrick had held that crown for so long but it still seemed strange to think of Joe as his boyfriend _,_ and not just a friend he was sleeping with. 

“So, are you going to introduce me as your boyfriend when we meet all your new friends tomorrow?” 

“Yes. I will.” _Not just my boyfriend - my partner, the love of my life; the man I’ll go down fighting for._ No wonder ‘boyfriend’ seemed like such a mediocre noun. 

Joe made a small sound of satisfaction and pulled his finger out, sliding a second one in beside it. “God, I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” 

So, it seemed that was it – _just like that_. The sex felt immediately different, as if the world had shifted slightly, aligning correctly for the first time in months – this was now his _boyfriend_ fingering his ass, stretching him out enough to be fucked. It wasn’t just _Joe_ anymore; he was _his_ Joe - _fuck, he has a title now! A for real, official title._ His heart swelled with happiness, the blood rushing out around his body, electrifying the tips of his fingers and toes. 

Jon bit his lip against a smile. “C’mere,” he breathed, pulling Joe into his lips by the back of his neck. He wrapped his legs around the small of his back, trapping Joe’s fingers inside his ass – his dick was _so_ stiff; he was _so_ ready to take Joe all the way, to get fucked hard and fast until they both came. He was almost fit to burst. 

“I love you,” he said between kisses. “I need you. Please fuck me.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like he was begging, but Joe bit down on Jon’s lip and then pulled slowly away from the kiss, sitting back on his heels between Jon’s legs. He pushed forward roughly with his two fingers, curled just so. They reached his prostate with ease. Joe rubbed quickly and Jon could feel that ache at the base of his dick, inside the shaft as he turned his face against the pillow. 

“Look how hard you make me, baby,” Joe told him, fingers looping around his wrist to direct Jon’s hand around his dick. Jon jerked him a few times, his body fighting off its approaching orgasm. Joe was hard, his beautiful dick standing to attention between his legs, the tip flushed red, already spilling pre-come. 

“ _Please_ fuck me, Joe. _Please.”_ Well, if he hadn’t sounded like he was begging before, he certainly did now. He pulled Joe towards him by his dick and tried to direct him blindly against his asshole. Joe still had his fingers inside him; he was enjoying teasing him. Jon’s back arched up off the mattress; he was desperate for that dick - he wanted to be fucked; he needed it from Joe, hard and fast, dirty and primal. Joe; the man he was going to introduce people to as his _boyfriend_ tomorrow. The word kept spinning around his head. 

“You want it; want my big dick inside you?” Joe asked him. Jon nodded feverishly. He couldn’t contain himself; there was so much blood pumping to his dick that it was a wonder his brain was still working; and in overdrive, too – processing each and every small touch and silent sound. The silence between his breaths. 

“Gon’ fuck you so hard you’ll beg me to stop. Fucking hell. Jon- _fuck.”_ Joe rammed his fingers hard inside him. 

Jon almost came right there and then, his eyes bulging, his back twisting on the hotel comforter. “Please!” he cried out. His dick was rock hard and leaking. “I need to feel you inside me; it’s been way too fucking long.” 

Joe pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the bedspread. He was slicked up with lube within seconds and he held his dick against the opening of Jon’s hole and pushed forward steadily. Jon hissed at the pain; at the burn of his asshole stretching to give way to Joe’s dick. 

“Open up for me, baby,” Joe told him. 

Jon tried to relax his muscles, pushing down against the head of Joe’s thick dick until he slid further inside. Joe dropped his neck forward and moaned. “You have no idea how good this feels. _Fuck_ … feels incredible. _You_ feel incredible.” He pushed forward another inch and Jon gripped the pillow in his fist, breathing through the pain, seeking out the pleasure. The head of Joe dick dragged along his prostate and Jon swore out loud, his fingers stretching out against his pillow. 

He felt so good, so close to the edge already, but with the idea at the back of his mind that he could fuck like this all night. His body was wound up tight, the muscles in his stomach and his thighs tense. That fantastic slow burn was the only thing that was keeping him in the here and now – he knew that after a few minutes he’d be stretched out and open enough to lose himself to the pleasure and right now he was riding that wave. He could feel Joe’s dick pulsing inside him; could feel the dull ache of want inside his stomach – or was it his chest, or maybe his head? His body felt like it was melting, his muscles turning to liquid as Joe fucked slowly into him. 

There wasn’t much of a gap between the click of the door and William shushing Gabe, his hushed voice floating into the room. “They’re probably not even here.” 

Jon’s panicked eyes clasped on Joe’s wide blue ones and Joe pulled back quickly, ripping his dick out of Jon so fast that Jon’s stomach lurched and he cried out sharply into the bedroom. 

“Fuck! Guys! Either of you ever hear of knocking?” Joe barked from the side of the bed, yanking the heavy hotel sheets from their neat folds under the mattress just as Gabe appeared in view, tailed closely by William. 

Joe didn’t bother to cover himself up – but why would he? His dick was still sporting a semi and it bobbed between his legs as he finally freed the sheets and slipped underneath them. Jon had grabbed a pillow as soon as Joe had pulled out and it was currently hiding his painfully depleting erection. 

William at least, was kind enough to cover his eyes and back away into the bathroom with an embarrassed apology, but Gabe, bold as brass and probably more than a little drunk, flashed them both a grin and bent over to pick a pair of underwear up off the floor and throw them at Jon’s head.

“Fucking hell, boys, get a room,” he goaded. Jon pulled the bedcovers back and slipped between them. He turned onto his stomach and buried his face in his arms on top of the pillow. His denied orgasm actually felt a little painful. He could hear Gabe unzipping his jeans and shimmying them down his hips. 

“Everyone decent now?” William poked his head around the corner and regarded Jon and Joe with an amused glance before padding over to the other bed and flopping down next to Gabe. 

“You two need to control your urges a little better,” chided Gabe, grinning over the room at them. 

“Or maybe you two need to learn to give a quick call – or to knock, y’know? It’s not really that hard.” Joe sighed heavily and turned onto his side to face Jon. 

Gabe scoffed. “I didn’t see a sock on the door handle, bro,” he said, as he reached for the remote and turned the TV on. “I thought we were safe. Honestly; clothes all over the floor. Lube bottle all up on the mattress. I kind of hoped you were just blowing each other, but I think you were a little further along than that.” Gabe’s words fell into a silent room, until he laughed, threw a pillow at Joe’s back and claimed, “I’m only kidding. New love – _so_ adorable.” 

Jon wished he’d suggested going back to his place. He knew they’d encounter this problem; Gabe as unapologetic as ever and William offering nothing more than an embarrassed laugh from the bed. Joe’s hand slid over Jon’s back, down his spine and around his ass under the covers. 

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed and pressed his forehead against Jon’s. Jon shook his head; it didn’t matter now – his erection had faded fast; all that sexual desire had ebbed away as soon as William and Gabe had appeared in front of them. Joe pressed a small kiss on Jon’s nose and Jon closed his eyes, relaxing into the loose embrace. 

Jon was almost dozing off when he felt the man next to him shift off the bed quietly and turn off the lights and the television. The room fell into darkness and he could hear soft snores emanating from the bed next to theirs. Gabe was definitely asleep, passed out drunk under the covers and Jon blinked awake enough to see Joe peering over their bed at William’s similarly sleeping form. Joe slid back into bed beside him and leant forward for a kiss. 

“Both asleep. Where were we?” he whispered, rolling over on top of him, cupping his face. 

Jon sighed, hips already arching up against Joe’s, despite the fact that his two friends were sleeping in the next bed; that either of them could wake up at any time. Joe got off on it, Jon was certain. 

“We should probably wait. We should have gone back to my place.”

Joe hummed quietly. “Back to that shitty apartment? I’d still be fucking you if we had. I’d fuck you all night long, make you come so hard.” He thrust his hips slowly against Jon’s, his lips moving from his mouth, over his cheek and down against his ear. “Swear to god, I can’t wait to fill you up with those beads I bought you. You’re gonna look so sexy, baby.” Joe’s hand wrapped around Jon’s dick and he jerked him off slowly, pressing soft kisses along his jaw, down his neck and along his collarbone. “Shh,” Joe soothed. “Keep quiet.” 

Jon’s dick was getting hard again and he could feel the press of Joe’s own cock against his leg. Jon glanced nervously over at the next bed. Gabe was still snoring, the bed unmoving. 

“I miss you so much when we’re not together,” he said, hands carding over the back of Joe’s hair and around his shoulders. “I hate being away from you.” 

He was hoping that Joe would immediately reassure him that they wouldn’t have to live like that for much longer. After all, if they were now going to start referring to each other as _boyfriend,_ they might as well make plans to physically be together for longer than a few days every couple of months. 

Joe hushed him, his hand running over his cheek, the other still quietly jerking his dick. “Tell me what you want from me.” Joe’s voice was soft. Jon could feel his hot breath tickling his ear. What Jon really wanted was for Joe to go downstairs to the reception right now and book them a room of their own. Failing that, he wanted William and Gabe to both leave and give them some privacy – but it was early in the morning; nearing 2AM and so Jon pushed his hips into Joe’s hand and sighed. 

“Your mouth,” he murmured. “I want your mouth around my dick.” 

Joe smiled above him and then slowly disappeared under the covers. Jon had to bite his lip so hard to stop from crying out when he felt Joe’s mouth close around the head of his cock. He allowed himself another quick glance over at his friends and pressed his hand over his mouth when Joe began to bob on his dick. 

Joe had been sucking him for a minute or so when they heard Gabe’s snoring subside from the other bed. Jon held his breath. Joe’s lips were around the base of his dick; he could feel the back of his throat and he desperately wanted to come, wanted to push Joe’s head back and jerk off into his mouth, but the proximity to his sleeping friends made him lose faith in how quiet he could be during orgasm. 

He let out a hushed curse. Joe wasn’t stopping, he wasn’t slowing down; his mouth was still moving up and down his cock, his tongue licking over the head until Jon’s back was arching up off the mattress and he let out a strangled cry – the loudest sound either of them had made since Joe got up to turn off the lights. 

Jon was in the final stretch. His stomach was clenching; he could feel himself peak as Joe’s hands gripped his hips, holding him down hard against the mattress as he tried to buck up into his mouth. 

“Fuck. _Joe_ … I’m gonna…” he breathed, his fingers stretching as he lost himself to the feeling in his dick; closing down everything else around him – concentrating solely on his imminent orgasm. Jon raised the covers to see Joe, blowing him in the dark. “Can I? In your mouth?” 

He saw Joe nod around his dick, before pulling back and jerking him quickly. Jon closed his eyes and then felt his whole body spasm in orgasm; his come shooting out the end of his dick and over Joe’s tongue. His senses came crashing down around him as his body turned slack on the mattress, his muscles twitching with the aftershock. Joe hadn’t ever done that for him before – they’d swapped come, but he’d never sucked him off long enough to get him off in his mouth. 

Jon was shaking, trying to calm his breathing as Joe sucked his dick clean under the covers and then threw them back. Cold, air-conditioned air hit his skin and he made a blind grab for Joe’s chin to bring him in for a kiss. He could faintly taste himself on Joe’s tongue as they made out, Jon’s dick still throbbing between his legs. 

“You’re good at that,” he smiled, pulling him down so they were side by side. “You should do it more often.” Because Jon had given Joe plenty of blowjobs during their time together, way more than Joe had ever offered him. 

Joe leant against him, arms wrapping tight around Jon’s shoulders. He tucked his head into Joe’s chest. “I don’t think that anyone’s ever loved you quite as much as I do right now,” Joe told him, quietly, the air hot and sticky between them. Jon smiled slowly and puckered his lips against Joe’s skin. 

“I’m sure you’re right,” he whispered back, wrapping his leg around Joe’s. It was a surprisingly comforting sentiment to fall asleep to. 


	19. Chapter 19

“Are you ready for another one?” 

Jon had lost the ability to speak a long time ago. He shook his head against the pillow at first, but then nodded and let out an embarrassing whine, because he knew Joe was going to get his way in the end. He was on his knees, his ass raised up in the air toward Joe, both his hands in fists pulling the pillow around his face and he couldn’t do anything but moan in response. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Joe told him from between his legs and Jon felt the slow, teasing tug of the string, pulling the metallic balls that were already inside him together and against the inside of his asshole. He could feel the weights inside them rolling. 

“Fuck!” he managed, raising his head and arching his back. 

“Too much?” Joe asked, with another gentle tug before he slipped his finger into his ass, pushing the balls deeper inside him. They came to a rest against his prostate and Jon dropped his head back down against the pillow. 

“No,” he breathed, blinking his eyes. “I’m good.” 

 _Weighted orgasm balls_. Joe had made a good choice. 

Half an hour ago, William and Gabe had kindly vacated the bedroom to go and grab some breakfast at one of Vegas’s famous buffets. It hadn’t taken them long to find each other under the bedcovers and start making out and ten minutes later, Joe had grabbed the offending orgasm balls from their box and dangled them between his fingers. 

There were five of them, all linked together with a string and when Joe placed them in his hand, he could feel little weights inside them rolling around. He’d had to bite back a quiet moan of anticipation at the fact Joe was going to push each one slowly inside him; that thought alone had made his dick twitch. 

Joe had claimed to have spent a decent amount of money on them; and Jon could tell – these certainly weren’t a ten dollar set of plastic anal beads; they were heavy and made of stainless steel, each one increasing in size and ending with a small metallic retrieval hook. The third ball; the one Joe had just pushed into him was slightly smaller than a golf ball, but Jon could still feel them, weighing him down from the inside, the pressure rubbing against his prostate. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He could feel Joe’s fingers twisting around the cord, pulling and pulling until the third steel ball popped out and slid down the string against the others. 

“I hate you,” he gritted out into the pillow. Joe chuckled and Jon could feel the cold, slide of the lube down his crack and then the third ball press against his asshole again. 

“Your dick disagrees with that statement,” Joe commented, reaching around Jon’s body to give him a gentle rub – he was hard and had been for the last twenty minutes. He was starting to ache. Jon braced himself against the dull reentry of the third ball and let out a startled gasp as it slipped back inside. He subconsciously rocked his hips to feel the movement inside him. 

“Fuck, Joe,” he moaned. “Feels so good.” He closed his eyes and pressed his face hard into the pillow when he felt the fourth ball press against him, the steel cold against his asshole. It was about the same thickness as Joe’s dick and he sucked in a deep breath to prepare. 

“Do you want to fuck me when you’ve taken all these?” 

“Fuck yeah, I do.” It was a whine. _What had Joe reduced him to?_ He bit down on the pillow. 

“Hold your ass open for me, Jon,” Joe told him. Jon took a moment to reach his hands back and pull his cheeks apart and he shivered at just how sordid that one action made him feel. His dick was leaking copiously, running down his shaft and to his balls. 

The blunt burn of the fourth ball disappeared as soon as it pressed inside him, but Joe was following with his cock and Jon keened at the feeling of Joe’s dick pushing into him, sliding in a few inches and then out – and then in; shallowly fucking him. Jon was over-stimulated. The weighted metal beads inside him felt like ball bearings as Joe’s cock slid over them – and he couldn’t fucking hold out any longer. He let one hand fall away from pulling himself open and wrapped it around his dick. 

“Don’t come,” Joe told him, grabbing his elbow and pulling his hand away. “I want you to be able to fuck me in a bit.” 

Jon groaned – the promise of being able to fuck Joe made his asshole clench tight around the shaft of Joe’s dick and he heard him moan, then cuss, then felt his blunt fingernails dig deep into his thighs. 

“Fuck,” Joe sighed, long and drawn, pulling out and leaving Jon groaning at the loss into the pillow. “Last one,” he coaxed. Jon felt more lube being squirted around his asshole, could feel Joe’s thumb rubbing it in – he was so lubed up; so sticky and wet. “It’s a big one; do you think you can take it?” Joe’s voice dripped in ridicule. 

“I’m a big boy,” Jon breathed. “Give it to me.” 

“I don’t think you’re ready,” Joe teased and he let go of the final ball, so that it swung between Jon’s legs. The chain-reaction it caused pulled a loud cry from Jon’s mouth as the four balls inside him tried to follow suit, rolling down inside him. He almost came right there and then, his dick was throbbing, leaking out pre-come profusely. Joe was being _such_ a fucking asshole, he thought, rocking his hips to feel the movement. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuck you so hard later. Fucking last night, dude, I was so pissed when they came home. You’re so hot, you look _so_ fucking hot like this, all open for me. I’m gonna push this last one in,” Joe hurriedly told him, bringing the final ball against his asshole, “and then I’m gonna sit on your dick and fucking ride you ‘til you come so hard in my ass.” 

Jon tried to relax but his muscles were wound so tight, Joe had to remind him to loosen up. He was biting down so hard on his own lip when he felt the last, heavy ball pop inside him that he drew blood. 

“Fuck,” Joe sighed blearily. “You took ‘em all, first time. That’s so hot. Turn over, onto your back,” he ordered. It took Jon a minute to press his palms into the mattress enough to support himself and when he pushed up and turned over, he could feel the five, steel orbs inside him, rolling around, knocking against each other. “Wow, look at your boner. I’ve never seen it like that before,” Joe said with an amused air, which kind of irritated Jon, given their current situation. 

“Shut up. Just sit on my fucking dick, dude. I’m gonna come so hard.” Jon shook his head clear and tried to reach out to touch Joe’s chest, his arms falling short and feeling heavy. 

“You’re gonna have to prep me first,” Joe told him with a smile and he shifted his body over Jon’s, kissing his chest. 

“You couldn’t have done that yourself while you were pushing anal beads inside me?” 

“They’re _weighted orgasm balls,_ Jon, not _anal beads,”_ he replied drolly. “And you watch your fucking mouth, because I can finish this any time I want.” Joe pulled down on the string between Jon’s legs and Jon cried out as the balls clattered together inside him. 

“Okay, shit sorry. You can fuck my mouth,” he said, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue flat. 

Joe whistled out a sigh, walking on his knees until his dick was aligned with Jon’s mouth, his hands on the headboard. Jon opened up and let his hands come to a rest on Joe’s hips as he sucked his dick. Joe was above him, rocking his hips, holding onto the headboard for leverage. Jon let him ride to the back of his throat without gagging and then slid one finger between Joe’s ass cheeks and into his hole. Joe moaned, his head thrown back, neck exposed, his knees either side of Jon’s head. 

They continued that way for a few moments, until Jon started gagging and Joe pulled away, changing positions so they were sixty-nining. He loved the feel of Joe’s mouth around his dick, of the weighted balls shifting inside him with each small movement of his body. _Fuck_ , he was in ecstasy. A bomb could’ve gone off outside the room right then and he would still want to chase that orgasm. 

Jon had worked three fingers inside by the time Joe pulled away, turned to face him, parted his ass cheeks and sat down on his dick in one quick, fluid motion. 

The tightness that enveloped his dick made his heart drop. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long…” Jon admitted, his hands holding tight onto Joe’s hips as he fucked himself. The pressure of the metal inside him, Joe’s tight asshole clenching around his dick – he knew it was only a matter of minutes before he peaked. He’d never really experienced anything this intense and it was all Jon could do to simply lay there on his back and let Joe finish himself off on top of him. 

“Bet those things feel so good inside you, bet you’re gonna fill me up with so much come. Fuck, Jon, I fucking love you. Love you so – _fucking much…”_ Joe trailed off, grinding down onto Jon’s dick with the full force of his weight. 

“I love you too. God- _Joe_ …” He pulled Joe in by his wrist and they slowed the pace, Joe barely rocking back and forth as their lips connected in a desperate kiss. His stomach was twisting – and he could feel it, his orgasm building up from the tips of his toes as he stretched them on the cotton sheets. “I’m gonna come, Joe. Fuck.” He barely managed to grit his words out before Joe was pulling away, sitting up straight and fucking himself furiously, one hand around his dick, the other balancing his weight on Jon’s chest. 

The heavy metal balls rolled inside him, knocking flush into his prostate every time Joe moved his hips and then he was losing it, his orgasm washing over him like a fog, nothing but white light behind his eyes and white noise ringing loud in his ears. He dug his nails so deep into Joe’s ass cheek when he came that he left crescent-shaped nail marks on his skin and everything was white, bright white fading to grey as he returned back to earth – to feel Joe’s asshole clench around him right before he came, liberally shooting his load over Jon’s chest. Some of it even reached his chin and Joe swiped his finger through it as he rode out, bringing his finger against Jon’s lips and letting him taste. 

They came down together, Joe lying on top of him as they breathed. Jon was sticky and uncomfortable and his orgasm-dumb limbs ached with the intensity of his climax. After Joe had pulled himself off his dick and curled around him on the bed, Jon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. 

“I thought you were meant to pull these things out of me when I come.” The orgasm balls were still weighing down inside him and Joe reached between his legs and gave the string a small tug – the movement made Jon’s body arch up off the mattress. Joe pressed his lips against Jon’s.

“I want to see you shower off and then get dressed and call Bill – and then, we’ll go down to the casino and see how long it takes for you to start begging me to bring you back here and get you off.” 

The thought stirred something in Jon’s chest that he couldn’t explain. He got off to Joe’s dirty talk, he enjoyed how they’d shared their fantasies so far and the thought of wandering around Las Vegas Boulevard, full up with anal beads that only he and Joe knew about, turned him on, but he wasn't going to beg. 

“Are you gonna do that for me?” he asked. “That’ll make me so happy, baby,” he said, licking across the shell of his ear. 

Jon already knew that he’d do absolutely anything to make Joe happy, but Joe wanted to watch him squirm and he wasn’t going to give into him that easily. 

“I might need ten minutes,” he said, his heart still thumping from his orgasm, the muscles in his thighs spasming as he tried to steady his breathing. 

“Cool,” Joe said, slapping his leg. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Feel free to join me anytime…” 

With that, Joe climbed off the bed with not so much as a backwards glance at Jon. Jon lay there, chewing his lip. When he heard the beat of the shower from the bathroom, he sat up, cautiously rising up from the bed as the five steel balls moved inside him. 

He’d be damned if he couldn’t keep a straight face walking down to the casino later. Joe might think he was calling the shots, but he wasn’t going to let him win this one. If he could hold his composure, then _he_ was the one in control and he certainly wasn’t going to give his friend the pleasure of watching him _beg_ for release. 

That’s what Jon told himself, but as he crossed the room toward the bathroom, feeling the little weights roll around inside him, he didn’t know how long his self-restraint would last.

 

* * *

 

“So, what is it, Facebook official, now?” Joe asked him, an amused grin on his face as they waited at the casino in Caesar’s Palace for William and Gabe. Jon felt a subtle hatred for Joe’s question – he didn’t care for Facebook, nor all the drama it seemed to create and once it was Facebook Official, he thought, there was no going back. 

“You can do whatever you want,” Jon told him, taking a sip of whisky from his glass – it was barely even eleven o’clock and they’d already started drinking. He hoped they’d be sober enough to make it through until the evening; they were meeting the boys at eight for a meal at one of the restaurants in The Venitian - but maybe the drunker they were, the better, because he was going to have to introduce Joe to Ryan tonight and his name hadn’t been mentioned all weekend. “I’m not getting involved in all that Facebook bullshit.” 

Joe rolled his eyes and maybe even looked a little defeated. “Well, I’m currently listed as single, so if you want guys I used to hook up with hitting me up every weekend, asking what’s up, then that’s fine. If not, you have to log on to accept my relationship request.” 

Jon shook his head dubiously and laughed. He was only semi-aware of what was going on around them. Those weighted orgasm balls were kind of distracting, rolling around inside him with each small movement. They weren’t uncomfortable – far from it, in fact; they felt great – a constant reminder of what had just happened up in the hotel room, of what was going to happen when Joe removed them a little later. 

When he moved, they moved with him. When he walked, it was all he could concentrate on – the persistent, mild stimulation, the fact that he knew Joe was watching him, hoping for him to fall apart so that he’d have the upper hand. Jon thought he was doing a good job keeping a straight face, even if Joe did keep poking his ribs and asking how he felt. 

“You want to go put some money down on the blackjack table?” Joe asked, after it became apparent that Jon wasn’t going to buy into the whole Facebook thing. To him, it seemed a slightly forced reaction to being in a new relationship. Did modern relationships hold no legitimacy unless they were official on a social networking website? 

“Sure,” Jon replied with a sigh. Putting money down on the blackjack table meant walking, meant the distracting roll of those stainless steel balls against his prostate. “Does it really mean that much to you?” he asked, when he got used to the movement from inside. “The whole stupid Facebook thing? I mean, does what we’ve said to each other not mean anything until it’s online?” 

“Course it does.” Joe regarded him with a sideward glance. “But, _hello_ – welcome to the modern world of dating.” Joe knocked their shoulders together as they walked across the casino floor to find a space at a table. “It doesn’t bother me so much. I mean, if you manage to introduce me to your school friends later as your boyfriend, partner, _whatever_ – I will leave Las Vegas a happy man. Is your friend Ryan coming?” 

“Yeah. He’ll be there.” The thought of the two of them meeting sent Jon’s mind into a tailspin; he didn’t know how to process the whole thing – Joe and Ryan, in the same room together, knowing that just last week, Ryan had attempted to kiss him. It made him anxious, because he really wanted them to get along. It'd make his life a whole lot easier if they did. 

“That’ll be interesting, meeting him.” Joe stopped by a blackjack table and pulled out his wallet. Jon stood beside him and put fifty bucks down on the table. Joe was a shitty blackjack player, if he remembered rightly, but he threw a hundred dollar bill down and gathered his chips. 

They’d been playing for about fifteen minutes; Jon was up – his father had told him to play blackjack when he was a kid, but Joe was making stupid bets and losing money fast. It was almost an in-joke around the table and between the dealer when Joe lost all his chips on a shitty hand. 

“You live here, that’s not fair,” Joe complained, one hundred dollars down already as he dug another bill from his wallet. “You probably spend all your free time brushing up on your strategy.” 

When Jon won the next hand, Joe groaned loudly and gathered up his few remaining chips. 

Jon hadn’t been aware of William and Gabe stood behind them, so the hard smack to his ass, delivered by Gabe’s strong palm almost knocked the breath out of him. 

“Oh! Fuck,” he barked, loudly, drawing inquisitive looks from both the blackjack dealer and the fellow players sat around the table. Inside him, the metal orbs clattered together, the harsh slap to his ass, forcing them all forward and against his prostate. His dick twitched to life, his balls tightening as the rolling inside him subsided. It took him a moment to compose himself and when he glanced around the table, a red blush rising high on his cheeks, everyone was looking at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, jabbing his arm back to elbow Gabe’s stomach. “Dude!” 

Jon was suddenly hyperaware of his body – and of Joe looking over at him in amusement. He was definitely going to pay for this. He couldn’t believe he’d been talked into it. He wasn’t going to put out for Joe – and he certainly wasn’t going to beg. 

“Oh, sorry, man. I’d forgot you two haven’t seen each other in, like, three weeks.” Gabe waved his hands defensively in front of him and flashed Joe a wink. Jon had to sit there and play another hand before he felt he could walk across the casino floor without getting a straining erection. 


	20. Chapter 20

“I want you to take me right now. I want you to pull these things out of me and fuck me and I need it _now_ …” Jon was almost beside himself. It was approaching 4PM and they’d been walking around the Strip, slowly getting more and more intoxicated for the past five hours. Those incredible orgasm balls were driving Jon to the point of despair by now and he’d quickly given up on his decision to act nonchalantly unfazed by them – five hours of mild stimulation could do that to a guy, and it was hard to act nonchalant when he had five anal beads weighing him down from the inside. 

They’d ended up pressed against each other at the back of a club just off the Strip – and it sure was a depressing place to be at 4PM on a Saturday afternoon. Joe’s hands were resting gently on Jon’s hips and Jon’s face was pressed into his neck, pulling at the back of his t-shirt in frustration. 

“Let’s get in a cab – we can go back to my place.” 

“What about Bill and Gabe?” Joe asked, his voice quiet, slow, sexy. 

Jon couldn’t give a fuck about Bill and Gabe – they were two fully-grown men, perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Jon was sure they could manage for a few hours on their own. 

“They'll be alright. Come on, please. Let’s go.” 

“I think I’d like to watch you squirm for a little while longer,” he teased, turning his head so his mouth was against Jon’s ear. “It’s hot when you beg.” 

“Oh my god, _please_. I’m so horny. I’ll do anything.” Jon thrust his hips forcefully against Joe’s, pinning him back against the wall. “You’ve not even fucked me properly since you arrived. You can fuck me now though – I doubt I’ll even need any prep, you can just fucking lube yourself up and stick your dick in my ass and it’ll feel so good, I swear to god.” Jon’s voice was low and dirty in Joe’s ear, and he could feel the first twitching of his dick inside his pants. He was fully aware of just how much he was hamming it up for Joe, but _goddamn,_ he wanted release. “I wanna suck your dick and swallow your come – payback for last night. Joe,” he said, pulling back from Joe’s ear and fixing him with hazy eyes. “Baby – let’s go home and fuck.” It was the first time he’d ever called Joe ' _baby'._  

Joe gripped onto his shirt and pulled him in, hands snaking around Jon’s hips and down against the swell of his ass. Their lips pressed together in a kiss and when Joe pulled away, he nipped down on his bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth. 

“Wish it was our home. Fuck. Want you so bad. Gonna bend you over and fuck you so hard, you won’t even fucking-” 

“Guys! Shots!” Joe’s spiel was cut short by the sound of Gabe’s voice shouting at them from the other side of the bar. It was almost as if he’d entered a bit of a trance, because when he pulled back from Joe’s body, he had to blink back his surroundings and shake the haze from his head. He glared over the bar at Gabe. He loved those two guys, he did, but Gabe was being a serious cock-block this weekend and he was starting to wish he’d not even invited him and William, if it meant he couldn’t get five minutes alone with Joe. 

The bar was practically empty; a small gay club that opened its doors during the day and served cheap bar food and even cheaper drinks, served in little plastic cups. Jon had never been before – Gabe had suggested it. Gabe knew the Strip's hidden gems better than he did. 

“Come on, let's not keep the man waiting,” Joe sighed, pushing himself from against the wall with a huff.

"It's more than okay to keep me waiting though," he mumbled in response. Jon’s dick was crying out for some attention – his asshole tightening as he followed Joe’s lead towards the bar. He could feel the weighted balls inside him, they were getting so frustrating, constantly knocking against his prostate with each step he took. His dick had been at a permanent semi-erection for the last hour.

"Jesus, dude. Didn't your mom ever tell you that patience is a virtue?"

“You fucking two! Seriously. You not getting any steady dick out here, Jon?” Gabe asked, handing him and Joe a shot each of tequila – no salt, no lemon – just a liberally poured shot in a plastic cup. Jon wanted to throw his drink right in Gabe’s face. “You’re all wound up like a rubber band. Cheers!” he said, and they all toasted and drank.  The tequila was lukewarm and tasted like it had been watered down. 

“The only steady dick Jon’ll be getting any time soon is from me, so thanks for the concern, Gabriel, but he’s all taken care of.” 

Gabe threw his head back and laughed. 

“Speaking of which, Joe and I are going to head off for a few hours. We’ll meet you at the restaurant later though.” Jon was keen to cut the bullshit and escape back to his apartment for an hour or so before having to meet up with the Vegas boys later on. Gabe and William shared a knowing look and then Gabe gave a small nod. 

Jon didn’t know why he felt the need to justify the fact that they were leaving their friends to go fuck back at his apartment, but the words were out of his mouth before he’d really thought them through. “We’re going to make a go of this, you know? Joe and I. Like, officially.” 

Joe wound his arm around Jon’s back at his admission and William slapped Gabe’s shoulder triumphantly. 

“That’s fifty fucking bucks you owe me, dude,” he said with a grin. “I _knew_ it,” William enthused. “I knew you’d get it together. Gabe was all like, _no way!_ But I _told_ you. Fifty dollars, please, Mr. Saporta.” 

Gabe looked a little dumbfounded as William shook his shoulder, holding his hand out expectantly. “Well, that took you boys long enough. I honestly thought we’d see the end of it after you moved out here,” Gabe told them, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “I mean, perpetually single Joe here, hooking up with Mr. Domesticated. When’s the wedding?” 

“Fucking hell, let’s wait ‘til Jon gets his ass in gear and moves back home first, shall we?” Joe gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and Jon relaxed into it. 

“This calls for a toast. _One_ more shot,” Gabe eyed them both with a pout. “Then you’re free to leave.”  

Gabe called the bartender over and ordered four more shots of tequila. 

 

 

* * *

 

“I hate you.” It was the second time Jon had gritted those words out at Joe since he arrived. “Oh my _god_ , stop teasing me, please.” 

Jon was fully hard and completely naked, lying spread-eagled on the bed in front of Joe, his feet planted firmly on the mattress, his legs open wide as Joe’s face dipped between them, licking up his crack. 

“Look at you; so desperate for it. I bet Patrick never made you feel this way.” 

Jon’s eyebrows knotted at the mention of his name, but Joe was right – at least as far as Jon could remember. Joe had successfully turned his world upside down and Jon, despite his protestations, was loving every single second of it. 

His arousal had been burning inside him now for hours and finally they were alone in a place they knew they wouldn’t be disturbed. They didn’t have to worry about Gabe walking in on them and making some snarky comment to further embarrass them – they were _together_ , back in Jon’s apartment and for the first time since he’d moved out to Las Vegas, he thought his place could become a home - so long as Joe was living there with him. 

“It’s fun to watch you,” Joe told him, smiling, his hand wrapping around Jon’s leaking dick. “You’re actually a bit of a slut for my dick, aren’t you?” 

A few months ago, Jon would have viciously denied that he was, in fact, a slut for Joe’s dick - he didn’t like the terminology, the thought of Joe wielding so much power over him, but now all he could do was groan and nod and raise his hips to meet Joe’s strokes. 

“What would you do if I just got up off the bed, and refused to get you off?” Joe was leaning over him, his voice hot in Jon’s ear, his hand still working his dick as the heavy metal spheres rolled inside him – it was almost painful now and Jon was beginning to get frustrated. “You’d have to get dressed and sit down for a meal and keep a straight face around all your new friends…” 

It wouldn’t get that far, Jon promised himself. He’d be damned if Joe didn’t let him come right now – he would pull those beads from his own ass and swing them into Joe’s head as punishment before he agreed to go in for round two. He knew he needed to shake things up a little – right now, Joe was acting way too cocky and self-assured; Jon was almost eating out of his hand. He needed to break him – and he knew the easiest way to do that was with his mouth around Joe’s cock. 

“Is this what it’s going to be like between us from now on – a constant struggle for power?” Joe asked him – conveniently only once Jon had slid his dick far enough down his throat that he wouldn’t be able to answer. “Because I really like it how it is – you all helpless and begging for it. My little slut.” 

Jon dug his teeth into the base of Joe’s dick and Joe emitted a hiss that turned into a groan when he didn’t release the pressure. Even though he tried hard to refute how desperately eager he was to firstly get off and secondly, feel Joe’s dick inside him again after three long, tiresome weeks, he was too far gone to deny Joe’s claims right now. He pulled off of his dick with a wet pop and fell blearily back down on the mattress. 

“Please,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything in the world for you, if you just…” He made a blind grab for Joe’s hand and pushed it between his legs. He felt his fingers twisting around the string that attached the anal balls together and closed his eyes in defeat when Joe pulled gently down on it.  

“I love you so much, you know that right?” Joe told him quietly, brushing Jon’s hair back off his face and kissing his cheek. “I never thought I’d fall in love – not with you; not with anyone. I’m so glad it happened though. I’m so _happy_ when we’re together.” 

“Uh-huh,” Jon nodded against Joe’s chest, eyes closed, lips parted against skin. Joe’s loving words jarred against what was going on between his legs. Joe was still jerking his dick, giving the string quick, gentle pulls as he worked. Jon couldn’t concentrate on much else. 

“Please, baby. Please…” The first time he called Joe _baby –_ back in the club, pressed up against the wall _,_ he’d done it on purpose. This time the word just slipped out. It felt right though. 

“So hot hearing you beg me,” Joe told him, voice heavy with want; with lust. “You gonna let me fuck you after this?” 

“Anything.” Jon bit the word out into Joe’s shoulder and dug his fingernails into his back. He was so close – seconds away from spilling his load; Joe was working his dick quickly and in his other hand, the string was wrapped around his fingers, pulling the biggest ball out halfway and then loosening his grip, so it disappeared back inside his ass. Joe did this a number of times, but it was all Jon could think about – the more he thought about that pressure in his asshole, the closer he climbed toward orgasm; and then he could feel it building, the pressure in his dick peaking until he couldn’t pull back and he was toppling over the edge, spilling into Joe’s hand as, in one slow, fluid movement, Joe pulled down on the string and the weighted orgasm balls popped out of him, one by one – all five of them. With each heavy orb that popped out his ass, his dick leaked out more come and he honestly felt he was going to pass out when he fell slowly back to earth – the haze clearing from his head as he blinked his surroundings back into focus.  

“Fuck me,” Joe breathed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come so hard. Did that feel amazing?” Joe was already moving behind him, lifting his hips off the bed and running his come-sticky hands over Jon’s ass. Jon could only nod and weakly try to hold his own weight as he raised his ass toward Joe and dropped his head onto the pillow. 

It didn't take Joe long to push past the muscle of his asshole and fall into a quick, hard rhythm – Jon’s mouth moved wetly against the pillow and he felt his eyes drifting toward the back of his head. 

“Goddamn fucking _Christ,_ dude,” was Joe’s exclamation when he came, his hands pressing down against the small of Jon’s back as he rode out inside him. “ _Fuck_ ,” he sighed, pulling out and flopping down on the bed next to Jon. “D’you miss me?” 

“Oh my god,” Jon laughed, turning his face towards Joe’s on the pillow. “Like crazy.” 

“When are we meeting for dinner?” 

“Eight,” Jon replied, his shattered body relaxing into his mattress. “We’ve got time for a nap.” 

Jon was the first to fall asleep. After he felt Joe’s warm, naked body slip itself up against his back, he was out for the count.

 

* * *

 

“He’s cute,” Joe informed him with a grin. “You like the pretty boys though, don’t you?” 

“Shut up. It’s not like that,” he defended himself, shaking his head. Of course, Joe was talking about Ryan, who was currently stood chatting with Spencer and Haley at the bar and Joe and Gabe both thought it was highly amusing, the fact that Ryan seemed to be having trouble hiding his stupid, little crush on Jon. 

“Joe’s right.” Gabe nodded sagely, “you _do_ like the pretty boys – the clean-cut, baby faced ones. Joe must be an anomaly.” 

“Bullshit,” Jon pouted – his friends had been teasing him since he’d introduced them to Spencer, Haley and Ryan. Brendon was apparently running late, but Jon figured he was embarrassed about being caught alone and on drugs in a gay bar the previous night and so was biding his time. He had yet to mention that news to Ryan.  

“That kid’s definitely a pretty boy – and a _bisexual_ , you say?” Gabe raised one eyebrow and craned his neck to check Ryan out at the bar. He nodded his head in William’s direction. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks I can fuck him by the end of the night.” 

William wrinkled his nose and slapped Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m not betting you anything of the sort,” he cried, reeling away from the attempted embrace that followed. 

Jon felt kind of sorry for William, because he'd have been pissed if Joe had said something like that in front of their friends. William was probably better off with Travis after all. He sat up close next to Joe and silently regarded Ryan as he stood at the bar. He’d dressed up, Jon noted – probably purposefully too. Jon watched as his hip tilted, noticed the way his fingers wrapped around the bowl of his wine glass. Patrick would have made a comment about how he was holding it wrong – “you’re meant to hold the stem when drinking white – so it doesn’t warm up. You only hold the bowl when you’re drinking red – jeez, Jon, get _with_ it.” Patrick had said that to him on their first date, which also turned out to be the first time they fucked. Jon’s nose tickled at the memory – the way Patrick had rolled his eyes behind his glasses and broken into that huge, sunny smile of it. _Fuck_. Jon thought he’d forgotten that. 

Jon’s eyes, still trained on Ryan, noticed him watching someone else behind Spencer’s shoulders. He moved his line of vision to the right a few feet and saw Brendon, hand-in-hand with a beautiful, dark-haired girlfriend – Sarah. She’d made it over from LA then, he thought. He wondered if he’d told her about how he’d spent last night. 

“Well, fuck me, Jon! You know _these_ two as well?” Gabe asked, throwing his thumb back over his shoulder to Brendon and Sarah. “Take me back to fucking high school, man; you didn’t tell me you were friends with such good-looking dudes.” 

“That’s the dude?” Joe nudged his elbow into Jon’s arm and nodded in Brendon’s direction. “From the club last night?” 

“Yeah. Don’t say anything about that though, will you?” 

There was currently too much going on and Jon was starting to grow anxious. He still wanted Ryan – despite everything – and Joe knew that. Or did he? Ryan was an itch that he couldn't scratch and he wanted him too, if that kiss the other week was anything to go by; but Joe knew nothing of that. Jon knew Brendon had spent last night dosed up on coke, dancing in a gay bar; but did Ryan? Did Sarah? What about Spencer and his ridicuously innocent view of the world? He scrubbed his hand over his beard and sighed quietly. He was pretty sure someone was going to fuck up tonight and spill a secret to the wrong people. So far, his money was on Gabe. He turned his full attention back to Joe when the two couples, plus an awkwardly single Ryan Ross, left their post at the bar and started to walk towards them. 

When the five of them joined their table, Gabe was keen to schmooze and woo – it seemed Joe was keen to stake a claim on Jon too, because his hand didn’t leave his knee and Jon noticed the uncomfortable glances Spencer kept throwing them. 

During their introductions, Jon had bailed out of introducing Joe as his boyfriend in front of Spencer and Haley. Even in front of Ryan, Jon had fumbled over his words and Ryan had taken Joe’s hand in greeting and claimed; _I’ve heard so much about you._ Joe, who’d regarded Jon with a displeased look at, once again, being downgraded to _friend from Chicago,_ had responded with; _me too. Jon talks about you all the damn time_ and a friendly roll of his eyes. Ryan had blushed and let out a nervous laugh and Jon had balked at the way his insides twisted with nerves. 

Brendon had hardly looked Jon in the eye all night. Sarah was a beautiful woman and she seemed to make Brendon smile. Perhaps his explanation as to why he was in the gay club last night was legit, maybe he _was_ just hanging out with friends. It didn’t matter to Jon, but his reaction had been… _weird_. That and the fact that he could barely meet his gaze, suggested that Brendon Urie, with his honest eyes and friendly attitude, had _something_ he was hiding, but despite the anxiety he’d been struck with at the beginning of the night, after their meal and a few bottles of wine, Jon felt comfortable enough to relax – he didn’t care what Spencer thought about his relationship with Joe; it should have been obvious by now, anyway and if Spencer couldn’t see that, well then, that was his bad. 

It was after he returned from the bathroom, after his third large glass of white wine, that he noticed Joe, leaning over the back of his empty chair to engage Ryan in conversation. After their nap together earlier, they’d woken and showered together, under the dribbling stream of low-pressure water from Jon’s showerhead. Joe had told him he loved him, over and over again as the bathroom steamed up with condensation and Jon had told him the same as they pressed together in the bathtub and made out, Jon feeling all relaxed and loose from the sex they’d had earlier. 

Jon regarded them both before returning to his seat, slipping in under Joe’s arm. The image of the three of them, spread out on a mattress together kept weaseling its way into his head – he wasn’t too sure how that arrangement worked now or if his fantasy still head any validity, but he couldn’t ignore it. Joe had been explicit back in the spare bedroom of his house in Chicago – _I want to see you, baby – taking two dicks at once._ The words had been reverberating around his head for three weeks. 

“I was just asking Ryan what you two get up to for fun out here,” Joe told him, his strong hand rubbing at his neck. 

“Oh yeah?” Jon glanced at Ryan and then made a grab for the last untouched bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He refilled Joe’s glass and his own and then lifted the bottle in Ryan’s direction and topped off the last of his wine. “What did you tell him?” 

Ryan titled his head and gave a small shrug. “Nothing more than the truth,” he said, taking a sip of his wine – and that was hardly reassuring. Jon let loose a nervous laugh and brought his glass quickly to his lips.

 

* * *

 

Jon saw it when he returned from the bar – Joe leaning into Ryan on the edge of the dance floor, whispering something to him. Joe’s hand was holding Ryan’s elbow, the other one cupped around his ear and Jon let the scene wash over him as he wondered what Joe was saying and why they needed to be that close. 

He wasn’t jealous; not like he had been of Cooper, but it still made him feel uneasy. Those fantasies had been shared in private – and even if they _did_ heavily involve Ryan, he didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing that. He started towards them across the club and gripped at Joe’s waist from behind. 

“Hey,” Joe turned to him and smiled, pulling his wrist so that he had to stand in front of the two of them. “I was just telling Ryan how good you are at sucking dick.” 

“I’m sorry?” Jon laughed and then eyed Ryan up apprehensively. The music in the club was loud; it was just one of the regular clubs on the Strip, full of glammed up tourists and dressed-down locals. He couldn’t be sure he’d heard Joe correctly, but the longer he stood there in front of them, the moment stretching on longer than was comfortable, the more certain he became that he hadn’t misheard the sentence that had come from Joe’s mouth. 

“He’s top notch, dude,” he said, over the music, slapping Ryan’s back. “I would pay this guy for his oral skills if we weren't already, you know; exclusive.” Joe directed the words at Ryan, but he winked over at Jon. Joe was either being incredibly audacious in trying to arrange a threesome or ineptly trying to tell Ryan to back the fuck off. Jon could feel the blush rising on his cheeks, as Ryan’s hard eyes seemed to penetrate through his. 

There were two ways this conversation could go, Jon told himself as he stood there. He could humor Joe and play up to his statement and perhaps flirt with Ryan, until Joe told him to reign it in, or he could act offended, scold Joe for embarrassing him and then drag him back towards the bar and warn him to stop teasing poor Ryan – especially, he would have added, if he had no intentions of following through. 

“Well,” he shrugged, after a moment. “What can I say? I’ve had a lot of practice.” 

Ryan bit back an awkward laugh and then Jon watched as Joe pushed his mouth back up against Ryan’s ear and said something that he couldn’t hear, but that made Ryan’s eyes fall closed for just a fraction of a second as he licked his top lip.

Jon's knees turned weak.


	21. Chapter 21

Apparently subtlety wasn’t Joe Trohman’s forte. 

Jon didn’t know which part of the night had led them to that exact moment where all he was aware of was Joe’s hard dick and his hips, grinding him against the wall of the club; and of Ryan, trapped next to him in the corner, Joe’s palm in the center of his chest, holding him in place - and then all he could concentrate on was Joe’s mouth – hot and wet and filthy in his ear. 

“If you want to, you can.” 

When Joe pulled back from Jon’s ear, his eyes were hazy and he looked from Jon to Ryan and then back again, urging him forward with a small raise of his eyebrows. 

Jon couldn’t think properly, but it wasn’t the alcohol that was clouding his judgment. He dared a glance over at Ryan, who was still stood there, tense and wide-eyed, the empty beer bottle in his hand now void of labels that he had torn off at some point during Joe’s whole seduction thing. Ryan’s eyes didn’t leave Jon’s, not until they both heard Joe speak up again. 

“ _I_ want you to.” 

And that was all he needed - the go-ahead from Joe. 

He _did_ want Ryan – and maybe Joe wanted him too, or more importantly, maybe Joe wanted to _watch_. Perhaps they could share. 

Jon moved forward, expecting Ryan to meet him halfway, but all Ryan did was let out a breathless rush of, “Guys, just so you know, I’m incredibly out of practice,” but it didn’t matter, because by the time he’d finished his sentence, Jon’s lips were against his, his hand pulling out of Joe’s grip to palm over Ryan’s jaw. 

Jon was going to blame the tequila tomorrow morning. 

It took a few moments for each of them to relax into it, but when they did, Ryan’s kiss was soft. He reminded Jon of Patrick because he was gentle and compliant; probably nervous more than anything, considering the circumstances. When Jon drew back, his lips were wet and he turned to face Joe and asked, “Does that get you off, you fucking pervert?”

Joe pressed into him; his lips crashing against Jon’s with none of the cautious tenderness that Ryan had shown him _._ His hand was in Jon’s hair, pulling at the crown, yanking him back and exposing his neck to Ryan’s hungry eyes. Jon could feel Joe’s dick twitching to life inside his jeans - which he guessed answered his question and despite his daze, he was still aware of Ryan squirming next to him, of Joe’s fingers looping around Ryan’s thin wrist and dragging his hand between their bodies, palm turned in against Jon’s dick as Joe rutted against it. 

Jon could feel _everything_ – the slight curl of Ryan’s long fingers around his restricted dick, the thump of the music vibrating through the wall he was pinned against, the twist of his hair in Joe’s hand as they made out and he couldn’t deal with what it was doing to his body – _this_ ; two men at once was too much – it wasn’t allowed to feel this _good_ , this promising. He groaned into Joe’s mouth, pressed his hips forward into Ryan’s palm and let each and every rational thought slip from his head. 

They’d made it this far and all the reasons that he could give, all the things that had been stopping Jon from giving himself up completely were floating away; caught somewhere between the body heat of Joe and Ryan – nothing more than forgotten doubts. 

“We should head out. What do you want, babe, do you want Ryan to come home with us?” Joe’s eyes and voice were indifferent, but his hard dick was giving him away. Joe wanted this just as much as Jon did. “Seems cruel to leave him hanging.” 

Joe’s fingers wrapped around Jon’s wrist, directing his hand lightly against the thin material of Ryan’s slacks; and sure enough, Jon could feel his dick, hot and hard inside his pants and he allowed himself to imagine what it looked like, how it would taste on his tongue when he sucked him off. 

Jon blew out a sigh and said, “Well, I guess that’s up to Ryan.” 

Joe smiled. Jon’s guts felt like they were being twisted together by a giant vice as they both turned toward him and waited for an answer. Jon decided that much was true. 

His vice. _Fuck_. 

That was Ryan. 


	22. Chapter 22

Jon hadn’t known what to expect when the three of them pushed through the door of his apartment early that morning. The sun wasn’t up, but the Nevada air was muggy and still, the lights from the Strip visible on the hazy horizon. 

He’d have liked to say he was drunk; wasted even – but he wasn’t, not by a long shot and as the door closed behind them, the click of the lock ringing loud in his ears, it was Ryan’s face he grabbed first, pushing him up against the wall just like the first time, but this time Joe moved behind him, his fingers deftly pulling at his belt, popping the buttons of his jeans as Jon’s tongue pushed unceremoniously inside Ryan’s mouth.

He could feel Joe’s erection pressing against his ass cheeks and in front he could feel Ryan growing hard underneath him. He gripped Ryan’s face between his palms, kissing him roughly until Joe had his pants undone and when he felt them being pulled down his hips, he pulled back from Ryan’s mouth with a gasp and turned his face to catch the lips of the man behind him, arm reaching around the back of his head to pull him in. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” Joe whispered and then he drew back, fixed Jon’s eyes with his and dropped them down to his lips. Jon’s heart rate spiked when he felt Joe’s nimble fingers slide inside his briefs and take a firm hold of his dick. 

Ryan was palming himself through his pants. Jon could see the outline of his dick if he looked close enough and he shivered at the thought of finally being allowed to see what it looked like, after months of frustrated fantasy. He was going to taste it, to feel it grow hard in his palm and against his tongue and that was cool, Jon told himself, but there was one thing still niggling at the back of his mind. He turned his face back toward Ryan and pressed their foreheads together. 

“This isn’t going to make things weird between us in school, is it?” he asked but he knew as he was saying it that even if it did, Ryan was hardly going to admit it now, backed up against the wall in Jon’s apartment – the promise of a _threesome_ at his feet. 

Ryan gave a quick, breathless shake of his head and Jon took a breath to steady his nerves. He wondered how Ryan felt, joining the two of them in something so intimate. He was outnumbered, so to speak. Jon and Joe were already familiar with each other, with every inch of each other’s bodies, but Ryan was discovering _two_ men tonight – and he was inexperienced, Jon remembered with a jolt. Basically a virgin. 

Well, compared to him and Joe.  

Joe was still jerking him, kissing the back of his neck and Jon suddenly felt he was a little too close to the edge – his pants were already around his knees, Joe’s palm wrapped around his dick and he searched silently for a sign from Joe that allowed him to strip Ryan from the confines of his slacks and press against his cock. 

The thought of Ryan’s hard dick was driving him crazy. Unable to wait any longer, he popped the top button of his pants and unzipped him. He wasn’t wearing underwear and it surprised him – he wondered if Ryan went commando in school or on all those nights they’d spent flirting with each other at the bar. Ryan’s cock fell out of his pants and into Jon’s hand and as he weighed it up in his palm, he felt Joe’s finger slip between his cheeks and slide around his asshole. 

“ _Fuck_ …” He moaned at that; the sudden realization that they weren’t just going to make out against the wall in his living room for the rest of the night struck him like a bolt of lightening. They were probably all going to fuck – _fuck!_  

Ryan’s dick was long but thin and he was shaved, with smooth balls and neat pubic hair. There was one prominent vein that ran up the underside and his cock curved to the right. It felt a lot different to Joe’s dick; a few inches shorter and a little thinner, but it was still a pretty nice dick, Jon thought, working it through his palm. 

He ran his thumb over the circumcised head – Ryan was dripping with pre-come and Jon wanted to taste, wanted to open his throat for that cock, so when he felt Joe’s palm apply pressure down on his shoulders a few moments later, he sunk to his knees in front of Ryan and gripped his hips. 

Ryan’s dick bobbed in front of him and he wanted to suck it, he couldn’t wait to close his lips around the head and just _taste_ , but Joe’s hand was in the back of his hair again, pulling him back just far enough that only the tip of Ryan’s dick brushed his lips. 

Jon stuck his tongue out desperately, just managing to swipe over the slit of Ryan’s cock and lick up the flavorless pre-come before Joe pulled him back by his hair. 

“Open your mouth,” he heard Joe order. “Wide.” 

So he did, flicking his eyes up to meet Ryan’s as he opened his mouth and pushed his tongue flat. Joe guided him forward onto Ryan’s dick and he didn’t stop pushing the back of his skull until his nose was pressed against Ryan’s tight stomach. From his position on the floor, Jon could hear Ryan groaning above him, hissing and swearing. He saw his fingers stretching out by his side at the sensation of Jon’s tight throat. 

Joe was making it very obvious that he was the one in charge. 

He stepped up behind Jon’s kneeling form and pressed his hips into the back of his head. This forced Jon’s mouth down the last inch of Ryan’s dick and as he knelt there, he could hear the two men above him, could feel Joe’s hips thrusting against him, choking him on Ryan’s cock as he tried to keep his throat open. They were kissing, making out, but Joe’s hand was sliding down the side of Jon’s face, over his jaw and down to his chin, hooking two fingers inside his mouth underneath Ryan’s cock. Ryan jolted forward into his throat at that move. 

Jon wished he could see them; wished he could force his eyes up far enough to catch their mouths moving together. He didn’t think the image would turn him on; he thought he’d be consumed by jealousy at seeing the man he loved kissing someone else, but he was hard imagining Joe’s tongue inside Ryan’s mouth, sharing his taste. 

Joe was so fucking perfect, he thought, his bare knees starting to burn on the worn out carpet – he knew exactly when to pull his hips back to give Jon enough room to pull off and breathe but he also knew that Jon desired the rough push from behind, forcing him forward onto Ryan’s dick. He _loved_ it. Loved the pressure of Joe’s hips at the back of his head, loved feeling so fucking pliant between the two men and the feeling of Ryan’s dick deep inside his throat. 

The next time Joe pulled his hips back, Jon drew back with them, turning hurriedly to work Joe’s pants open and release his incredible cock. He wanted to worship that thing and to feel the heavy press of it against his tongue. It was so fucking hot and he wanted it in his mouth – alongside Ryan’s; the thought tumbled into his head, gathering speed until it ended with him, lying prone on his mattress, being filled with two dicks as both men came to their own shattering orgasms inside him. His stomach twisted, his heart speeding as he opened Joe’s jeans like a birthday present and his cock sprung free. 

His hand wrapped around the base, pushing the familiar length between his lips. He heard Ryan swear behind him as he swirled his tongue around the head of Joe’s dick and pulled off with a dirty, wet pop to kiss down toward his balls, sucking one and then the other into his mouth. 

Joe sighed above him and stepped closer toward Ryan so their cocks touched. That’s what Jon had been waiting to see; ever since Joe unleashed his fantasy three weeks ago on the single bed of his spare bedroom. He was beginning to feel giddy, the sight in front of him making him light-headed and eager for more, more, more.   

He shifted between the two men, running his tongue along the full length of Joe’s dick, across the head and then down Ryan’s. When he looked up they were both looking at him and he couldn’t hold eye contact; not with Ryan _or_ with Joe. They both looked too fucking hot. He dropped his eyes to the two hard dicks in front of him and took Ryan into his mouth, sucking him halfway down before he pulled off and swallowed Joe’s. 

Joe was quick to catch on. After a few moments, when he was slowly sucking and jerking Ryan’s dick into his mouth, he felt the hot press of the head of Joe’s big dick nudging at his lips. Jon opened his mouth wide and desperate, barely able to close his lips around the two of them. Ryan drew back and Joe pushed in, dragging their cocks together and for a minute their rhythm worked perfectly but after a moment Ryan pulled all the way out, hunching over as he moaned. 

“I’m sorry, I may need a few minutes… That’s umm – _oh my god_.” 

Joe’s dick fell away from his lips and Jon knelt static in his position on the floor, waiting for the next move. He could have done that all night. 

“We should uh–” Joe cleared his throat. “We should take this to the bedroom,” he finished roughly, offering his hand to Jon and pulling him up off the floor. Jon had never seen Joe look flustered before, not in all the years that he’d known him, but he looked it now and when Jon dared a glance over at Ryan he looked kind of funny, stood there with his pants around his ankles, his dick in his hand, looking around the room nervously. Maybe he was searching for an escape route. 

“So, are you going to watch or do you want to join in?” Joe asked Ryan as he kicked off his jeans. Jon bit back a laugh at the two of them; Joe stood there with his hands on his hips, that ridiculous cock hard between his legs. He could see Ryan eyeing it and then forcing his eyes up toward the ceiling 

“I’m uh? I… _Fuck_.” Ryan breathed his curse out so quietly that it was almost inaudible, even in the silence of Jon’s dark living room. He licked his lips and then looked desperately between the two men. Jon had never seen him look so unprotected before. His eyes, his voice, his taut stance – he looked like he’d just had his walls pulled down and didn’t know quite how to handle it. “Maybe I could watch? I don’t know. It’s just – I’ve never… not with two. I might not be very umm-” He blew out a nervous sigh. “Jon knows the situation.” Ryan nodded his head in Jon’s direction. 

Of course, Ryan was worried because he wasn’t particularly experienced – three men, a handful of times, none of whom had been all that satisfying. Jon remembered teasing him at the bar on Friday nights, suggesting he probably needed a man who knew what he was doing. Well, he had one now. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t need your full sexual history. You can either join us, or not - your call, man. But this is a one-time thing. It doesn’t mean you two can fuck behind my back when I go back to Chicago, okay?” 

Ryan nodded quickly and then ran his fingers through his hair. Jon heard him swallow. “I know. I understand. Jon’s amazing and he loves you so much, I wouldn’t ever-” Ryan was blathering. Jon zoned out. 

He quietly backed into his bedroom and scanned his eyes over his messy bedroom – they hadn’t cleaned up from earlier; the cotton bed sheet was bundled at the foot of the bed, the metal orgasm balls on his nightstand and the lube bottle upturned next to them. He turned when he heard his bedroom door push open behind him and was met with Joe; _his_ handsome, perfect Joe, walking towards him and taking off his shirt. 

They fell against the mattress together, Joe’s lips pressing forcefully against Jon’s, tongue dipping inside his mouth. _God,_ he’d never wanted anything so much in his life. His dick was hard again after one slow, delicious minute of skin and sweat and breath and Jon wanted more. He _needed_ more. 

He gripped Joe’s shoulders tight as they flexed underneath his hands and rutted up desperately against his dick, fervent for friction, for the hard, torrid sex he’d been waiting for since he picked Joe up from the airport on Friday afternoon. If Ryan was there to watch well then, that just added to the experience. 

“I love you so much, I love you.” That was all he could say to Joe. He remembered the times when those words had died on the tip of his tongue; when he’d had to bite them back when they fucked – now they were the only words he could manage, a mouthful of hushed _I Love You’s_ pressed into Joe’s lips. 

“You looked so hot, baby. Looked so sexy on your knees for us. Did you enjoy it, sucking on his dick like that?” 

Jon nodded, gasping out loud when he felt Joe’s hand dip between his legs and press against his hole again. Joe spoke dirty into his ear as he pressed his middle finger inside him, down to the knuckle and tickled over his prostate. He was two fingers deep by the time Jon was aware of the mattress dipping by his side and of Joe’s attention being lifted from sucking at his neck. 

“Ryan’s here, babe. Do you want him? D’you wanna suck his dick?” 

Jon groaned at the question and barely managed to open his eyes and focus them blearily on Ryan, sat beside him on the bed. His pants and shirt were now were off, discarded somewhere between his living room and his bedroom. Ryan was skinny; all ribs and shoulder blades and was probably liable to leave bruises with his sharp joints. Jon reached out blindly to touch his bare knee. 

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” The change of tone in Joe’s voice suggested he was addressing Ryan, but Jon blinked his vision back into focus and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He felt so exposed in front of Ryan, laying like he was on the mattress, knees bent and his legs open, Joe’s fingers buried inside him – the thought gave him a sick thrill; the thought of being watched and lusted after by Ryan made his dick hard. 

“Up on your hands and knees for me, Jon,” Joe told him with cold indifference. The fingers dragged out from his asshole and he shifted over on the mattress and raised his ass. Jon felt the warm rub of Joe’s hands over his hips, around his ass and then briefly between his legs to tug gently on his balls and around his dick. The touch was gone almost as soon as Jon rocked into it and then Joe sat back on his heels and said, “Suck his dick. I wanna watch…” 

Ryan’s erection had faded since the blowjob in the living room. He wanted to please Joe; he could deal with the embarrassment of a one night stand on Monday morning, because right now, even the mere thought of wrapping his lips around Ryan’s dick as Joe watched them made him hard as a brick. He felt sexy, he felt wanted and loved and desirable. In the darkness of his grimy apartment, he felt like it was only the three of them that mattered. His bedroom always felt so lonely, but now it was buzzing with promise, need. Want. 

He crawled on his knees towards Ryan on the bed and raised his eyes to look at him. 

“You want this?” he asked. It was kind of a stupid fucking question really. 

“It’s kind of hard to say no to you when you look like this,” Ryan replied, running his hand over Jon’s jaw. Joe hummed in agreement from behind and that was the only green light he needed. He lowered his head down into Ryan’s lap and opened his mouth around the tip of his dick, sucking gently and licking over the slit with his tongue. He tasted like skin and smelled of sex and it turned him on. When he wasn’t concentrating on the way his mouth was moving down Ryan’s dick, he was thinking solely of Joe, wondering what this was doing to him. He wondered if he was jerking off watching them. 

He was able to deep throat Ryan with relative ease and when his nose came to rest in Ryan’s pubic hair, he inhaled and moved his head slightly, back and forth, feeling the delicious flex of Ryan’s dick at the back of his mouth. He pulled off and then mouthed back down the side of it, the base held tight between his thumb and pointer finger and that’s when he was able to steal a glance at Joe. 

He _was_ jerking off, but only just, giving his dick small, gentle tugs every now and then. It was half hard, bobbing gently against his thigh when he let it go. Joe’s heavy lidded eyes fixed on Jon as he ran his tongue up the vein on the underside and licked up more pre-come. He really wanted to please Joe and the way he was looking at him suggested he was doing just fine. 

Ryan moaned above him and Jon looked up inquisitively. His head was tipped back, his Adam’s apple prominent in his throat, eyes closed. It was only a few moments later when Jon felt a light hand pressing his forehead back and he pulled off Ryan’s dick slowly, sucking at the head until his whole body convulsed on the mattress and he let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, flushing red with nerves or embarrassment or arousal, Jon couldn’t tell - probably a mixture of the three. “I don’t want to come yet and if you carry on, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” 

“He’s good, huh? I remember the first time you ever sucked me off. _Man,_ ” Joe sighed, shaking his head. Jon remembered it too - barely over a week after Patrick had dumped him. His heart had still be in tatters and he'd sucked Joe's dick like he had something to prove. He could feel Joe moving behind him and it was comforting. He felt the press of his erection between his ass cheeks and dropped his head against Ryan’s thigh. 

“Yeah. Well, better than any girl I’ve ever had.” 

Jon was sure there was a compliment hidden in there somewhere. He felt the mattress move again and the warmth of Joe’s naked body was gone from behind him. He was left on the bed with Ryan, his dick a mere inch from his mouth and still so accessible to him. Ryan’s long fingers were carding through his hair. He wrapped his hand loosely around his dick and squeezed.

The click of the lubricant bottle was the sound that brought Jon back to reality – and then the dip of the mattress and the twitch of Ryan’s dick in his hand. Joe, the fucker, was taking his time and after what felt like a teasingly long minute, he felt Joe pull his ass cheeks apart, slick him up with cold lube and then reinsert his two fingers. 

“D’you wanna watch this?” Joe’s asked, voice rough as he scissored him open. 

One part of Jon’s brain wanted to cry out a protest and jab his heel back to catch Joe’s dick, because his intrinsic reaction was; _fuck you, how embarrassing._ The other half however and certainly the part that was dominating his heart and his dick and the bubbling need in his stomach cheered silently; _fuck yeah, let him watch. Let’s show him how it’s done._

Ryan paused for a moment, but shifted himself around Jon and sunk down on his knees beside Joe. None of them said anything as Joe opened him up; two fingers quickly turning into three – and then four, which Joe never usually did – he was probably showing off. 

“Are you ready? Do you want me to fuck you, Jon?” Joe asked. 

Jon nodded into the mattress and bit his lip. Ryan was watching him and Joe at their most intimate and if he thought about it too closely, it was incredibly embarrassing, but strangely satisfying. He could hear Joe lubing up his dick – maybe they were working together back there; he didn’t know whose hands were whose, but when Joe’s fingers left him and he felt his stretched asshole grip onto nothing but thin air he huffed out a breathless sigh. 

“Fuck me. I want it.” 

“This is always my favorite bit. Watch,” he heard Joe telling Ryan and Jon could only imagine what they were watching for, but the image built quickly behind his eyelids – he could feel the head of Joe’s dick against his asshole, could feel it nudging him back open, slowly pushing in an inch and then drawing out – and of course Joe was showing off; why wouldn’t he? 

He teased him with the head of his dick, fucking into him shallowly until the stretch began to give way to pleasure, warming his muscles in the bottom of his stomach. Joe’s fingers hooked over his shoulder, the other hand he could still feel guiding his dick in and out and Jon was so frustrated, so needy and eager and impatient to feel the full length of Joe’s dick inside him that he pushed back and then cried out at the blunt intrusion of his cock against his prostate. 

“Fucking hell…” Ryan’s voice sounded dazed; as if it didn’t really belong to him anymore. Joe rode him through the pain and they both fell into a rhythm after a few moments – Jon pushing back to meet Joe’s strokes halfway. 

“Do you need a dick in your mouth up there, baby?” Joe asked him, the punctuating thrust ramming hard into his prostate. Jon whined – actually whined and nodded blearily, forcing himself up on his hands and locking his elbows. “That’s your cue, Ryan.” 

He _loved_ this. He fucking loved feeling so used and exposed and open in front of another man – in front of Ryan. Before he started sleeping with Joe, he’d never had pictured himself acting like this for two dicks. He’d never experienced anything like it before and he briefly wondered how many threesomes Joe had taken part in, to give him so much confidence in orchestrating this one. Ryan moved again on the bed and knelt in front of him but just as he was about to close his mouth around Ryan’s dick again, Joe pulled him back forcefully against his thighs. 

“Dude. Fuck!” he cried, his eyes popping as he felt the full length of Joe’s dick ram inside him. His dick was really fucking big, but he couldn’t help himself from grinding down into it as he sat back on Joe’s legs. 

“Beg him for it,” Joe told him, his voice hot in his ear. 

“Ryan – please. Can I?” 

Joe let him back down on the mattress and Jon opened his mouth compliantly, stretching his neck as far as he could reach to try and lick his dick. “Can you what?” Joe prompted. 

Jon paused. This was certainly a sobering situation. “Can I please suck you off?” He blushed at being forced to ask. 

“What do think, Ry? Does he deserve it?” 

Jon clenched his muscles around Joe’s dick, provoking a hiss and a sharp slap on his ass. He’d expected Ryan to mumble a quiet yes, yes, _yes -_ because he really _did_ deserve it, but Ryan was barely inching forward, rubbing his dick on Jon’s lips and then pulling away. 

“I think he could do a little better.” 

Joe hummed. “You hear that, Jon? You’re not gonna get his dick unless you beg for it.” 

God _damn_. Jon took a deep breath and glared at the mattress underneath his palms. “Please, Ryan. Let me suck you off, I’ll make it _so_ good for you. I want to feel your dick in my mouth, want it to choke me. I _need_ it,” he begged and only then did he flick his eyes up to fix on Ryan. “ _Please_.” 

Ryan blurted out a curse and fed his dick into Jon’s mouth after that - and Jon went to work, sucking and spitting; his mouth flooding with saliva and _fuck,_ it all felt _so_ good; so dirty and humiliating having to beg to suck dick, when both men already knew how good he was at it. Jon was rock hard between his legs and the way the two men were talking above him threatened to push him over the edge. 

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Suck his dick down, baby. Does it feel good?” 

“Mmh,” Jon replied around Ryan’s cock. _Fuck_ , it felt good. He wondered if Joe could even comprehend how turned on he was right now. Joe’s hand slipped from his shoulder and across his clavicle, up over his throat as Ryan fucked his mouth. His touch was so light that it was barely there, but Jon could feel what it was doing to Joe by the swell of his dick inside his ass. 

“Is this what you wanted, Jon?” 

“Mmh-” Jon managed again, but even that was cut off by Ryan’s cock forcing itself toward the back of his throat; the full length of two dicks now inside him. He could barely think, he couldn’t even breathe. He was so full. So fucking full. 

Joe was firm and relentless in his thrusts, each one pushing him harder into Ryan's stomach, nudging his dick further down his throat until Jon thought it was impossible to salvage himself from the edge of orgasm. His cock felt like it was going to fucking _explode_. 

Jon discovered that if he forced his eyes up enough he could watch Ryan’s face, which in a roundabout way meant he could see Joe. He’d heard of cheap motels at the very end of the Strip that charged by the hour and contained mirrored ceilings or huge reflective closets. Jon had never seen the appeal before, but right now, the thought of being able to see himself from all angles, getting drilled by two men made him so fucking hard. 

He relaxed his jaw to accommodate Ryan and with each thrust, his attention fell on a different man. When Joe pulled out, Ryan pushed in – they’d created quite a rhythm between themselves – but what Jon waited for were those incredible few times where they’d both fuck into him at the exact same moment – when that happened, his whole body shook uncontrollably. 

“He’s close,” Joe told Ryan, snapping his hips forward and then pulling back out. He pushed back in slowly; Jon reveled in the heavy drag of his dick and then had to pull his head back off Ryan’s dick to curse at the man behind him. Ryan dick was wet with spit, already slicked up and hard and ready, the head flushed red as it bobbed in front of him. 

“Fuck, Joe, _please_ …” He needed release. 

He felt Joe sink into him further and then the harsh grab of fingers in his hair from behind, pulling his head up and pushing him back down onto Ryan’s throbbing cock. 

“You suck his dick until I tell you to stop,” Joe spat. He didn’t need any more encouragement to swallow and suck around his shaft. Jon was in heaven. No one had even touched his dick. He was going to come from penetration alone; he knew it. 

Joe fucked him - long, deep strokes which tickled his prostate, forcing him closer and closer to orgasm. He moaned like a cheap whore around Ryan’s dick – he couldn’t help it. He could feel Ryan’s cock swelling on top of his tongue, could feel him tensing the muscles in his stomach and Jon knew he was close. That thought made his own balls tighten impossibly hard as he felt himself peak. His mouth slipped from Ryan’s dick once again. 

“ _Fuck_ , Jon. It really shouldn’t be this hard,” Joe scolded him, pulling out in one quick, fluid movement. Jon cried out at the loss, he felt his asshole pulsing around nothing, open and empty and desperate to be filled again. Joe pulled his knees out from beneath him and he went with it, turning over onto his back when Joe pushed his side and arranged him on the mattress. 

For a moment, Jon could gaze over Joe’s face. He looked a lot more spent than his voice had been letting on; he was sweating, his hair damp around his face, a thin sheen of sweat on his chest and shoulders that Jon just wanted to lean forward and run his tongue across. It they were alone, that’s what he would’ve done but Joe was pushing his head towards the edge of the mattress so that it hung off the side, his throat stretched open and ready once again for Ryan’s dick. 

“I’ve never, in my life…” Jon heard Ryan breathe out as he climbed off the bed and stood over him with his dick in his hand, “been a part of anything so _hot._ ” 

So, Ryan was enjoying himself just as much as Jon was. Joe chuckled. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice soft and quiet. “This is pretty fucking amazing.” 

His words filled Jon with a comfortable warmth and assurance. He’d needed the change in position, simply to catch his breath. Joe was between his legs, spreading his knees wide and pulling them over his shoulders. He sank his dick easily back inside. 

Jon cried out at the feeling and thrust his hips up to meet Joe. Joe held him down on the mattress with a strong palm pressed hard against his lower stomach and that felt good, being held down on the bed. When Joe started thrusting again, Jon let his eyes slip close and let the sensations wash over him. He could come on all those auxiliary feelings alone. The sex was great, it really was – but he could fuck like this for hours. Right now it was the smaller movements, the secondary actions that were threatening to push him over the edge. 

It was the slap of Joe’s balls against his ass, the heat of his hand on his stomach and the fingernails digging into his hip and then, a few seconds later, it was the feeling of Ryan’s dick on his lips, nudging open his mouth as he opened up willingly and felt him slide into his throat. 

Ryan swore at this. It was a new angle; he was sucking him deeper and each time Joe pushed into him, Jon groaned around his dick, the vibrations making it swell and jerk. 

“You can come when I tell you. When you feel me come – _that’s_ when you can let go,” Joe told him and Jon felt his muscles melting. He could still feel that wonderful, hard pressure pushing down on his belly, keeping him together. He was close – he was so, _so_ fucking close. He tried to clear his mind of everything; but his senses were in overload. 

His dick was so hard against the back of Joe’s hand on his stomach but Joe hadn’t even touched it; not really - he wanted it, needed it so much that he was sure he was going to just pass the fuck out as soon as he felt the telltale signs of orgasm approaching from either of the two men currently stretching him open. 

Ryan was the first to let go, pulling quickly out of his mouth with a moan as his orgasm followed, some of it spilling into Ryan’s hand as he jerked the rest off onto Jon’s chest. Jon didn’t appreciate that, but he was glad Ryan hadn’t come in his mouth – the angle would have made him choke. 

Ryan stepped away and fell back on the bed with a sigh. Jon could feel the blood rushing to his head as Joe yanked him forward and fixed him with his eyes. Joe was biting his lip and he looked so far gone, one hand finally moving to twist around his dick. The other hand slid from around his ankle and made a grab for Jon’s fingers. They interlaced their hands as Joe sunk into him, deep and hard, over and over and over again, his hips pushing up on the in-stroke. Jon saw the exact moment Joe fell apart inside of him – his eyes were closed, head tipped back, a rushed plea hot on his lips, cuss words littered with Jon's name. Joe's fingers twisted painfully around Jon’s and then he was pulling out, spilling his orgasm onto Jon’s stomach while still working Jon’s dick through his slick palm. Jon followed suit, almost at the exact same second as he felt Joe’s come hit his skin. He felt mightily used, covered in semen, laying there spent but completely satisfied. 

“You were so good,” Joe told him, his voice desperate and wavering as he leaned in to kiss him; wet, sloppy kisses pressed against his chin and lips. “And _fuck_ , come here, you.” Joe reached for Ryan and pulled him into Jon’s side. Their lips joined, but only briefly. “ _Thank_ you.” 

“ _Fuck_ , don’t thank _me_ …” was Ryan’s bemused reply as he settled down onto the mattress and rubbed Jon’s knee. Joe cleaned him up as Ryan watched, wiping the come off his stomach with the edge of the bed sheet. Jon couldn’t say anything for a long time, his chest was too tight, his mouth still too loose – his brain too fried to formulate any kind of words. 

Joe shifted himself under the covers, his dick still half hard against his thigh. Jon pulled himself up and curled into him, pressing a kiss against his cheek; a final, silent thank you for making his fantasy a reality. 

Jon hadn’t given it much consideration, but he was surprised when he felt Ryan move down into the bed with them and loop his arm across Jon to rub at Joe’s chest. He felt Joe sigh and saw the smile playing on his lips in the dark. Jon bit back a grin against his tattooed shoulder and closed his eyes in pure exhaustion when he felt the warm press of wet lips against the back of his neck.


	23. Chapter 23

Ending inspired by the song [Poison Oak](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54Z2zfr1mrI), by Bright Eyes.

* * *

William was a gossip and Gabe was the kind of man who just said whatever the hell was on his mind at the most incongruous of times and together they formed an alliance that couldn’t really be trusted with any kind of secret, which was why Jon was desperate not to give them any ammunition regarding their three-way with Ryan last night - because he and Joe would never live it down if either of them found out. 

Well, that and the fact that it had sweet fuck all to do with them – especially Gabe, who would take great pleasure in watching Jon squirm as he asked personal questions. 

They were sat at the breakfast buffet in the Bellagio Hotel and Jon had always thought all-you-can-eat places were a rip-off, considering he rarely ate enough to warrant paying almost thirty bucks, especially on breakfast, where all he really ever wanted was a pot of strong, black coffee and a cigarette. 

Ryan, much to Jon’s surprise, had accepted his invitation for breakfast that morning and when the three of them turned up together, Gabe had been all wiggling eyebrows and backslaps and overt winks over his shoulder and when Ryan excused himself to the bathroom halfway through breakfast, Gabe had followed him across the room with his eyes and turned pointedly back towards Jon. 

“So,” he said, taking a sip of his mimosa. “Where did you three disappear off to last night?” 

“Jon and I were just super tired. We looked around for you – but we left. Went back to his place to get a good nights sleep,” Joe told them. 

Gabe raised one, skeptical eyebrow at Joe. “You weren’t indulging that boy’s obvious, burgeoning hard on for Jon then?” 

Joe just laughed and shook his head while Jon’s cheeks pricked with heat beside him at the table. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, because he really wasn’t – every time he thought back to last night and the feelings that had been stirred up inside him, he felt his stomach jump. He never thought that acting like such a slut for two dicks would turn him on, but it had and he still felt loose and well-fucked, which was proving to be a nice reminder of last night. 

“He’s just so cute. I would fuck the bisexual out of him in a heartbeat,” Gabe told them, his hand on William’s knee under the table. William looked like a kid who was listening to his parents talk about sex – he flashed Jon a weary smile across the table, one that didn’t reach his eyes and Jon really hated to gloat, but he figured that he and Joe had done a pretty good job at that already. 

That morning, Jon had fucked Ryan’s tight little ass under the watchful supervision of Joe. Joe had taken forever to prep him and it had turned Jon on immensely to watch – slick fingers disappearing into Ryan’s ass, scissoring him open and stretching him out and it had been weirdly intimate between the three of them, because this wasn’t a desperate, rushed fuck. It was calculated and deliberate; each stroke of Joe’s fingers inside Ryan’s ass was methodically used to bring the boy closer and closer to orgasm, but not to make him come. 

Jon had watched, unable to really dredge up any jealousy, because Joe’s eyes kept locking into his as he finger-fucked Ryan’s ass. They had made out over Ryan’s shoulder, his naked body pressed between them and after half an hour of slow, precise preparation, Joe had leant his mouth against Ryan’s ear and asked, “Do you want my boyfriend to fuck you?” pronouncing each and every word as if he was doing a screen test for some kind of porno. 

Jon hadn’t been expecting it. He thought that Joe’s deft fingers would bring Ryan to orgasm as he jerked him off and already they’d gone way further than Jon could have wished for but that’s what happened and when he slid a condom on his dick and pushed gently into a fully prepped and open Ryan, Jon couldn’t help the groans falling from his mouth. Ryan was tight and hot and wet and he was perfect; dazed eyes blinking up at him and Joe from the mattress. 

It was all Joe’s doing really. He had knelt behind Jon, holding his hips and pushing him forward, his mouth warm and wet, moving against his shoulder.  He couldn’t quite believe it was happening – in the cold light of day it couldn’t be passed off as a drunken mistake. He’d been fantasizing about Ryan for months and he’d been _so_ controlled around the sexually confused English teacher since relocating to Las Vegas, that he _deserved_ this, he thought when he felt Joe lubing up his own dick and pushing himself between Jon’s thighs. 

When Jon was really close to coming and Ryan was loose enough and turned on enough not to protest, Joe had snaked his hand around Jon’s hip from behind, down to the base of his dick when he pulled out and Ryan probably knew what was coming – he had time to tell them to stop, but he didn’t. On Jon’s in-stroke, Joe slipped two fingers into Ryan’s ass beside Jon’s cock – and _that_ had made Jon lose his fucking mind. 

Ryan’s eyes had almost popped out of his skull and his back had arched up from the mattress, an uncensored rush of words leaving his lips. Joe didn’t pull away and after a moment, Ryan relaxed into it. The two men moved inside of Ryan like one, Joe’s fingers curling up slightly causing Ryan’s asshole to clamp down tight until they had him shuddering to climax in front of them, shooting strings of milky white come over his belly. 

Jon had been so focused on Joe’s long fingers nudging into Ryan’s asshole beside his cock that he’d almost zoned out during his orgasm - at Ryan bucking his hips and jerking his dick. Joe was just so fucking hot and after his half hour of preparation it hadn’t taken Ryan long to come. Jon could have continued a little while longer, but he pulled out with the condom pinched between his fingers. Joe had pulled it off for him and grabbed his cock with a strong and steady hand. Joe’s own big dick was caught between Jon’s legs as he rutted against him from behind. 

Jon had come first, his climax decorating Ryan’s chest and after that, he felt Joe give a few more, desperate final thrusts between his thighs as he let himself go, his come dripping down Jon’s legs. 

That had been it – they hadn’t kissed, they hadn’t cuddled; Ryan had lay there blearily for a few moments post orgasm, claiming he’d never known gay sex could be so _good_ and that it had been _amazing_ – _they_ were amazing and just so _right_ for each other; Ryan’s words all rolling together as he recovered from his climax. He’d even said thank you and Joe had shoved his shoulder and laughed at him, before pulling Jon in for a slow, heavy kiss. 

As they left the house that morning to meet William and Gabe, Jon had expected a pep-talk of sorts, but it didn’t come – and things seemed the same between him and Joe – except now they’d fucked Ryan Ross. He guessed now it was out of his system – they’d shared something so intimate; sex that was way hotter than Jon had ever expected, but as he sat there at the breakfast buffet that morning, his burning desire for the man seemed to have ebbed away. 

It was Joe that he knew he couldn’t live without – he’d found the man who completed him, who he’d gladly have gone to the ends of the world for – and they only had a matter of hours together before they’d once again, be saying goodbye at an airport, an uncertain future stretching out in front of them. 

When they finished breakfast, Gabe was keen to make the most of his last day in Las Vegas by gambling up the rest of his money, hinting that Ryan should join him at the roulette table. Ryan however had kindly made his excuses and said goodbye. Joe had wound him into a hug and said it had been fun hanging out. 

“You’ll look after him for me, right?” Joe laughed, nodding over at Jon. “Make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.” The three of them all knew what _that_ meant. 

“Of course,” Ryan smiled back and there followed a slight, lingering rub on Joe’s arm – Jon guessed it must have been a little weird for him; how were you meant to say goodbye to your co-workers new boyfriend who’d just orchestrated an incredible threesome? Especially when surrounded by hawk-eyed friends like Gabe and William. 

Gabe had made one final, last-stitch attempt to coax Ryan into gambling with him but Ryan had let him down gently by saying he had an awful lot of school marking to catch on, which only served as a painful reminder that so did Jon – stacks and stacks of it, piled up on the coffee table in his apartment. 

Gabe looked slightly defeated when they watched Ryan walk away. Jon would hazard a guess that not many gay men said no to Gabriel Saporta. 

Ryan hadn’t been gone long when a text message buzzed through on Jon’s phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and scanned his eyes over the words of Ryan’s text. 

 _You two are awesome. Go the fuck back to Chicago, dude. Joe’s a keeper._

A little face with hearts for eyes flashed at the end of Ryan’s message.

 

* * *

“It’s nothing, really. Just, y’know… don’t open it until I leave.” Joe stood in front of him, scratching the back of his head as he handed Jon a sealed envelope with his name scrawled in messy print on the front. 

They were at the airport – _again_ – and this time they didn’t even have the comfort of knowing they were going to see each other in a few weeks time. Jon could feel the dull ache starting to return inside his chest; the feeling that something important was missing and he didn’t know how long it’d be until he got it back. 

After Ryan had left the four of them that morning, they’d trailed around the Strip listlessly, in and out of casinos, drinking free booze until Jon had fixed Joe with a stare and suggested, with a nod of his head, that they bounce. It wasn’t even that he wanted sex; he just wanted to be alone with him. It felt like a long time since they’d just sat together and talked, or watched TV or just lay there in silence and enjoyed each other’s company. 

William however, was quick enough to pinpoint that exact small exchange between the two of them and gathered up his chips from the poker table, following them both to cash out. 

“ _Please_ don’t leave me. Gabe’s pissing me off so bad. I can’t _believe_ he was flirting like that with your friend. What a _dick,_ I mean; _I’m right here!”_  

“Maybe that’s how he felt when you used to fool around with Travis,” Jon pointed out, because as cruel as it sounded, he was eager to lose William as third wheel and go back to his apartment to get high. 

“You don’t know anything about me and Travie, so shut the fuck up,” William bit with a pout, hands digging hard into his hips. 

Jon had obviously touched a nerve. 

In the end, he and Joe hadn’t managed to spend any time alone and Jon had driven them all to the airport a few hours later with a heart that felt like a stone inside his chest. Gabe had been needlessly chattering in the backseat, droning on and on about how miserable the flight home was going to be. 

“Having to sit on a plane when I’m in Bill’s bad books for some reason and dealing with Joe who probably won’t even be able to _talk_ after he leaves _you_ is not my idea of fun,” he commented and Jon flashed him a look in the rearview mirror that was so stern, he’d seen him physically clamp his lips shut and stare out the window silently for the remainder of the journey. 

As they said their final goodbyes, William and Gabe were kind enough to go on ahead and Jon had stood there and looked at him and wondered what the fuck they were doing still living in separate states. 

After Joe had dug the envelope out of his jean pocket and made Jon promise he wouldn’t open it until he got back to his car, he’d gripped his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. “Keep your dick in your pants for me, will you?” he told him, pressing his hips forward. 

Jon laughed – at various points during the day he’d thought back to how he’d felt when Joe had slipped his fingers inside Ryan’s ass beside his cock and the memory almost floored him every time. It was one of the hottest experiences of his entire life. “Of course I will. That goes without saying.” Joe’s body was pressed tight against his and Jon couldn’t help feeling an unnerving sense of déjà vu. 

“Here we are again. Saying goodbye at an airport… Next time you come back home we should spend a little longer than a weekend together. Infinitely longer,” Joe mentioned, his fingers brushing through Jon’s hair. 

Jon turned his face against the soft fabric of Joe’s t-shirt and inhaled his scent, but he didn’t say anything and then Joe was pulling away - too soon for Jon’s liking, gathering his bag up from the floor and flashing him a big, brave smile. After one too-short kiss, Jon was watching him turn away and walk towards security to join William and Gabe. Jon felt like he’d been plunged face first into an alarming dose of reality because if he couldn’t get his act together and commit, Joe was going to walk away from him one day and not turn back – the thought made his skin spike with fear. 

As he walked back to his car, he fingered the envelope from Joe open and pulled out its contents. There was a small piece of blue paper, folded around a larger rectangle of card. Jon’s whole body clenched up as he read over the note. 

 _I never thought this life was possible,  
You’re the one that I’ve been waiting for.  
_ _Please come home._

Inside was a plane ticket – McCarran International to Chicago O’Hare, scheduled for the end of November – Thanksgiving weekend, Jon thought, smiling. At least he had something to look forward to now – another trip to Chicago where he’d make sure that he and Joe talked a little more and spent as close to zero time socializing with other people as possible. 

Joe really loved him – and it felt good that he trusted him too. He was about to pull out his phone and send a quick thank you text to Joe, when he peered back into the envelope. It was empty and Jon looked back at the papers in his hand. 

There was only one ticket. An outbound flight. One way. 


	24. Chapter 24

Jon didn’t know how to feel when, first thing Monday morning, Ryan looked at him over a steaming mug of coffee and said, with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows. “Your friend Gabe hit me up on Facebook last night. Is William his boyfriend, or what?” 

Jon blew out a breath and looked up from that morning’s newspaper. “Fuck, dude, I don’t know what’s going on between those two. Tread carefully though, Ryan. Gabe’s a real handful.” 

What he really wanted to say was, _back the fuck up a second… what?_

Gabe had made his attraction to Ryan pretty damn obvious on the weekend, but he hadn’t expected him to do anything about it. Perhaps Gabe and Ryan talking online was just innocent flirting – Jon sure knew what a master of innocent flirting Ryan was, but he didn’t want to be the dude that introduced a relationship wrecker into William and Gabe’s already tempestuous friendship – or whatever it was they had going on. William would most likely never forgive him. 

“You’ve got some attractive friends. He was pretty hot.” 

Yeah, Gabe _was_ pretty hot, but he knew it and if Jon were being honest, William would probably be better off without him – they were both too out-spoken and too vain for their relationship to work in harmony. William and Gabe were both very alike and while Gabe acted up to the arrogant, brash asshole role, William was slightly better at hiding it. William’s pride was hidden, bubbling away under the surface.  On the other hand however, they’d been hooking up for a good ten years now – there must be something that held them together. Either way, Jon was not going to let himself get involved. 

“You seem distracted this morning; is everything okay?” Ryan kicked his foot under the table and Jon looked up from the newspaper. Ryan looked at him differently now – his eyes had a certain warmth. 

“Everything’s fine,” he replied, flashing Ryan a big smile and pushing the paper away. 

He guessed he was distracted. All Jon had been thinking about since the previous evening was that one-way ticket back to Chicago and what it meant. He hadn’t managed to speak to Joe about it yet and even when he did he knew it’d be awkward because he was pretty sure that that one-way ticket was an ultimatum. It was Joe telling him to wrap up his shit in Las Vegas and move back to Chicago – and it was all fine in practice; romantic even, the fact that Joe had bought him a plane ticket when he knew money was tight and given him two months to quit his job, find a new one back home and move in with him, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging in the back of his head. 

He wanted to be with Joe more than anything, but he wasn’t a fucking teenager anymore. He couldn’t just drop his job in Nevada to run back home – it had been barely three months and it made him feel like a quitter. That one-way ticket had been bothering him all night and first thing on Monday morning, it was a distraction he could really have done without. 

“Did Joe get off to the airport okay?” Jon could feel the tip of Ryan’s shoe pressing down against his. He pulled his foot back – Ryan probably didn’t even realize. 

“Yeah.” Jon paused and then sighed, glancing around the staffroom. He was just about to launch into a recount of their last few moments together at the airport, about the plane ticket and the note, when Ryan leant over the table towards him. 

“I expected to hate him. I thought it’d be weird, you know?” Ryan dropped his eyes and licked his top lip. “I thought I’d be jealous, but… you two are really awesome together. He really loves you and I mean, figuratively speaking – if I were you, I’d be on the next plane back to Chicago and like, tying him and his dick down, because, _damn_ Jon,” Ryan blew out an exaggerated breath and rolled his eyes. 

Jon laughed – at least he knew Ryan’s opinion regarding the one-way plane ticket now. 

“It’s complicated,” he said, pulling the newspaper back towards him on the table and curling up the corners. It was something to distract himself. 

“Why? Las Vegas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I don’t need to tell you that. You’re a good teacher; you’d be able to get a job back in Chicago, no problem. I don’t even know why the fuck you moved out here. I’d much rather live somewhere cool like Chicago. Dude, Vegas fucking sucks.” 

“Maybe Gabe will invite you to visit him,” Jon teased, looking up at him. Ryan took another sip from his coffee, smiling into the mug. He seemed to have a newfound batch of confidence. Ryan was always so tense, but this morning, he was carrying himself tall. It was as if the wires had been pulled from his bones and he’d finally loosened up. Maybe what he’d needed all this time was a good, hard fuck. 

Jon had been so distracted with memories of the weekend that he hadn’t noticed Brendon quietly approach from behind, until he pulled out a chair, its legs scraping on the linoleum floor of the staffroom. He’d forgotten all about Brendon until he saw him – he was wrapped up in a hoodie over his shirt and tie, his eyes red and his hair unstyled. He looked fucking exhausted – not his usual well-groomed and handsome self. Memories of Friday night pushed their way into Jon’s head – memories of how they’d bumped into Brendon at the gay club and how Brendon had been alone and high on coke. 

“You look like shit,” Ryan told him and Brendon scowled. 

“Yeah, well. I saw Sarah off at the airport first thing this morning, so we hardly got any sleep at all – up all night, _fucking_ ,” Brendon added, jutting out his jaw in Ryan’s direction as if to say, _fucking beat that, loser._

“You should’ve told her to arrive a day earlier. You could have taken her out dancing on Friday night then,” Jon probed, because he certainly wasn’t going to put up with a moody Brendon trying to avoid him all week and it _had_ been a jibe, but he’d been kind enough to disguise it. Still, Jon hadn’t expected such a confrontational reaction from Brendon. 

“Oh, fuck off, will you?” 

Jon reeled back and raised his hands up by his chest in defense “Fucking chill out, dude, I was just making conversation.” 

“Whatever,” he bit, childishly, "I know exactly what you were implying," but his anger seemed to have quickly lost steam. He pushed his chair back noisily and sloped towards the lockers without another word to either him or Ryan. 

Ryan flashed him an inquisitive _what the fuck_ look and Jon was sensible enough to return it. 

At lunchtime, Spencer had knocked on his classroom door just as the students were all filing out. His first lessons of the week had followed much the same format as all the previous weeks. The kids were almost as uninterested in learning about Amonton’s law as he was about teaching it and they giggled every time he said the word _friction_. 

“What’s up, dude; did you and Haley have a good time on Saturday?” he asked with a sigh as he sorted through textbooks. 

Spencer took a few steps towards his desk and stopped, twisting his fingers in his hands. He took a deep breath and then sighed. “Haley says I owe you an apology.” 

“Why?” Jon looked up and quirked his eyebrow in amusement. He hadn’t spent much time conversing with Spencer and his fiancée on Saturday evening – only really to introduce them to the Chicago lot. As the drinks had started flowing, he’d spent much of the evening watching Joe, mercilessly try and seduce Ryan and to the best of his knowledge, Spencer and Haley had left not long after the meal. 

Spencer looked like he was about to pass out with nerves. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and pulled at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt. “For trying to hook you up with her friends. I realize now that you’re probably not interested in Haley’s friends – not the female ones, anyway.” 

Jon laughed and shook his head, moving out from behind his desk to push test papers into his bag. “Dude,” he said, trying to show some sympathy and reassurance in his voice. He pulled his bag onto his shoulder. “It’s okay. Nothing to worry about.” He reached out to pat Spencer’s shoulder, but Spencer tensed up – even though Jon could tell he’d tried really hard not to. Jon dropped his hand and hoped that Spencer would leave it at that, but this was Spencer Smith and he couldn’t help himself from launching into a self-indulgent explanation. 

“I really _am_ sorry. I honestly had no idea and it’s not like I have a problem with it, because I don’t, but – I mean, you just don’t come across as _gay_ and then, on Saturday, when you were with thingy… you know?” 

“Joe?” Jon offered, leaning back against his desk with his arms folded. “My boyfriend.” He got a small thrill from saying that word out loud, but it still seemed weird. Spencer almost balked at Jon’s words. 

“Yeah, well...” he shook his head. “I said to Haley, I was like, _baby, do you think Jon’s gay?_ And she was like, _wow, Spencer, you’re slow off the mark on that one. She_ seemed to think it was pretty obvious, but I didn’t really think about it. She says it’s because I spend too much time talking about myself and never ask the right questions. She said she’d had you pegged right from the beginning.” 

Jon smiled at Spencer unintentional sexual innuendo. “Well, women usually have pretty good intuition,” he remarked, pushing himself up from his desk and making a start towards the door. 

Spencer huffed and put his hand out to stop him. “I don’t get it, okay? I’ll never understand it, but if you want, you can bring Joe to the wedding. You know, if you two do those kinds of normal, _couple_ things.” Spencer sighed as if he’d just had a tremendous weight lifted from his shoulders. 

Jon paused, unsure if Spencer had meant his words to come across as insultingly as they had. Spencer was pretty harmless, but he sure as hell was witless. “Do you want me to come to the wedding with Joe or are you just saying that because Haley told you to?” 

Spencer shook his head and then rolled his eyes. “Well,” he started, resting all his weight on his right leg and pulling the thread from his cuff, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not that. I mean, what I’m trying to say is – you don’t have to feel pressured to bring a date, but whoever you chose to bring is totally fine by me and Haley. I mean, no offence, but – the whole _gay thing_.” He pulled a face. “Like, I can’t ever imagine, you know, like, doing it - putting my _thing_ up-” 

“I know how it works, Spencer,” Jon interrupted, before the man in front of him dug himself a grave so deep he’d need a ladder to climb out of it. He’d always been reasonably lucky regarding the people around him accepting his sexuality. His mother had been nothing but supportive and his father, despite his initial hostilities, had accepted him with nothing more than a weary shake of his head. 

Apart from a couple hyped-up kids who had been brave enough to shout a few unimaginative insults across the classroom after his video got posted around his old school and a few of instances out in public, where strangers had done the same, he’d never really been a victim of homophobia. He knew Spencer wasn’t a homophobe per se, but he probably just needed a little help understanding. 

“Listen,” he said. “Why do you love Haley?” 

Spencer’s face softened at her name. The fool was so in love. He wondered whether people could see that on his face when he talked about Joe. Spencer would sure make a great husband. 

“Because she’s amazing and kind and she loves me – for who I am; even though I talk too much and say stupid things like I just did right now, stupid embarrassing things…” he shook his head and sighed. “She _loves_ me – and she makes me happy.” 

“And that it, isn’t it? You and Haley, me and Joe. It’s the same feeling once you strip it all away.” 

“Wow,” Spencer nodded. He looked like he’d just been hit with a bolt of realization. Jon could almost see the cogs of his mind turning in consideration of Jon’s statement. “I guess that’s true. I’ve never really thought about it like that before. Weird,” he laughed, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I’ve never had a gay friend before.” 

Spencer nudged his elbow into Jon’s ribs as they exited the classroom and headed down the quiet corridors toward the staffroom. Jon curbed the full-on scoff that threatened to spill from his lips and turned it into something softer, something that wouldn’t raise questions, because poor Spencer… If only he knew.   

 

* * *

 

“What do you think about Brendon’s girlfriend?” Jon asked Ryan after last period. Brendon had been deliberately ignoring him all day and so of course Jon’s question was a round about way of asking if Ryan had any idea that Brendon liked to spend his weekends alone and on drugs in fashionable gay clubs on the Las Vegas Strip. 

“She’s pretty hot,” Ryan answered. “Super hot, in fact, but…” And Jon had known there was going to be a _but._ Ryan shook his head as if he was searching for words he couldn’t quite say. “I think she’s got him by the balls.” 

Ryan didn’t seem to be Sarah’s biggest fan. It was the way that Jon noticed Ryan completely shut off interest when Brendon talked about her, divulging the group their sexual exploits at lunchtime or talking excitedly about how much he loved her and how, as soon as he had the money for a nice ring, he was going to propose. 

Sarah had seemed like a sweetheart and she _was_ super hot – even Jon thought that. She and Brendon made an attractive couple, but Jon couldn’t quite understand Brendon’s reaction to being caught out on Friday night. He’d hardly looked at him all day and it was bugging him.  

He stepped towards Ryan at the lockers and glanced around behind him to check for eavesdroppers. It was the end of the day – the majority of the teachers had already packed up and jumped in their cars home and the few that were still hanging around in the staffroom were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“So, when Joe and Gabe and Bill and I were out on Friday night we ended up at this shitty gay club on the Strip and _dude!_ Brendon was there and he looked like he was alone and I’m pretty sure he was on coke and maybe it’s not my area of expertise, but how many straight guys go to gay clubs and get dosed up on _cocaine_?” he asked. 

Ryan face dropped and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the door of his locker. He hadn’t expected Ryan’s eyes to flash as dark as they did – and nor had he expected the heavy silence that followed, but Jon was now pretty sure that he wasn’t the only one to know Brendon’s secret. 

“You saw Brendon out on Friday night?” Ryan asked eventually. His voice was rough, edged with something that forced him to clear his throat. Jon nodded and Ryan dropped his eyes and swallowed. 

“Is Brendon bi?” he prompted slowly and Ryan looked back up at him and then peered into the depths of his locker. “Ryan, what the fuck, is this some kind of weird secret I’m not allowed to know about? He’s been avoiding me all day, he hardly even talked to me on Saturday night.” 

Ryan turned to him, closing his locker with force. “Well, maybe you should talk to him about it.” His voice was tinged with anger, but after a moment he soften – his shoulders relaxed a little and he leant up against the lockers and sighed. “I didn’t know that he was still going out to those bars. Brendon-” he started, but his words died in his mouth. “Brendon and I. We umm – we had a _thing_ – about a year ago. No one knows about it. He was the last guy I slept with – you know, before this weekend.” 

Jon tried to process all this new information. It kind of made sense now he thought about it – Ryan’s bitchy putdowns about Brendon’s relationship with Sarah and the way he looked off into the distance when Brendon talked about her. _Three guys_ , Ryan had always said. _Three guys, a handful of times_ – and obviously one of those guys had been Brendon. Jon remembered now – little clues Ryan had given him during their Friday nights drinking together. He didn’t know why he hadn’t managed to put two and two together sooner. 

“Okay,” he said, regarding the fellow teachers passing them by. “So, how come you didn’t tell me?” 

“Is that what you pissed off about; the fact I didn’t _tell_ you? Brendon’s worse than me. His parents are super religious, he always said they’d never accept him if he started dating another dude, so he just refused to believe that what we had was, you know… anything important.” 

“But was it?” he asked. 

Ryan shrugged and picked at his nail. “To me it was. I really liked him – but well, now he’s got this new girlfriend and he’s convinced he’s going to marry her…” 

“But he’s still going to gay bars and getting high,” Jon pointed out. He really hadn’t meant it the way Ryan took it. He’d meant; _hey, maybe you’re still in with a chance – he’s obviously still curious,_ but Ryan snapped at him. 

“Yeah and what the fuck does that say about me? I’m not _good_ enough for him – and I’m not good enough for you either, so why don’t you just drop it, okay, Jon?” Ryan lugged his book bag onto his shoulder and turned to march out the door. Jon was left alone by the lockers, fielding curious looks from the teachers left there with him.

He bit the inside of his lip and for the first time, he kind of regretted that threesome.


	25. Chapter 25

November in Las Vegas was _weird_. 

Around Thanksgiving, Jon was used to the temperature dropping low into the thirties. He was used to winter coats and hats and gloves by now, but in Las Vegas, it was still t-shirt weather – the high seventies, most days - and Jon couldn’t really accept the presence of Christmas trees and early-bird holiday decorations adorning a lot of the houses on his route to work, when it was still so goddamn warm out. 

November had come by quick and a long Thanksgiving weekend in Chicago was looming. For a month after Joe left Vegas, Jon had contemplated a move back to his home state – or at least he’d kept that charade up in front of Joe, over the phone. 

When Jon had eventually admitted that a move back to Chicago just wasn’t practical for him, it had caused their first real, explosive argument – an argument that had resulted in Joe simply hanging up on him, mid-explanation and then refusing to answer any of Jon’s calls for the rest of the evening. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to _be_ with you, fuck, Joe – of course I do, it’s just-” 

And Joe had interrupted him, voice raised as Jon tried to stay calm. “It’s just _what?_ You’d rather work a job I know you hate, live in a city you don’t like than move back home to be with me?” 

“No-” 

“Well then, _what_? Please tell me, Jon, because I can’t be that dude who’s got a boyfriend that lives halfway across the country. Man, I _love_ you, but this isn’t how I want it to be between us.” 

Sat alone in his apartment, Jon pressed his head into his hands and sighed. “Joe, please don’t make this difficult. You need to give me a few more months, I need to save some money, my job is-” 

“ _I_ can help you out with money,” Joe exclaimed, cutting him off again and the argument had deteriorated, harsh words were exchanged; Cooper’s name was used as a cheap-shot by Jon and he really shouldn’t have been surprised when Joe brought Patrick into the equation as a comeback. He kind of deserved it. 

“Well, _fuck_ , maybe Patrick ran off with Pete because he was fed up of your fucking indecisiveness.” 

Joe’s comment had brought an abrupt end to the argument, the silence and the weight of the words hanging between them on the phone line. He fucking _loved_ Joe – and he wanted to be with him, but he knew that moving back on a whim because Joe had bought him a one-way plane ticket would turn out to be an unwise move. He didn’t want to slink off back to Chicago with little savings and no job and have to rely on Joe to keep him financially secure. 

He’d been halfway through explaining that very point to Joe when he heard the line go dead – he couldn’t hear the static anymore, couldn’t hear Joe breathing on the other end of the phone and he stopped and waited a second, heart thumping hard in his chest. 

“Joe? You still there?” he questioned, looking at his cellphone to see the home screen blank. “Think you can fucking hang up on me, you little prick,” he spat under his breath at the screen, one final explosive bout of anger escaping him before he threw his phone down on his couch and pressed his face into his hands. 

He really wished Joe could just understand that his hesitance to move back to Chicago had nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t want them to be together - and it had even _less_ to do with the fact that he’d rather stay in Las Vegas with Ryan, as Joe had suggested – several times. 

The next morning, on his way to school, Joe’s name had flashed up on his cellphone and Jon had picked up eagerly. Last night, Joe had let his phone ring and ring until it forwarded itself to voicemail and Jon wasn’t a teenager anymore, but it had been hard not to flood Joe’s cellphone with missed calls and questioning text messages. 

“Hey…” was Joe’s drawn-out greeting when Jon answered the phone. He sounded like he was treading carefully. “What’s up?” 

“I don’t know. What’s up with you?” Jon had really tried to keep the pissed off edge out of his voice, but he couldn’t help snapping. 

“I’m _sorry_ – about last night; about losing my cool and saying the shit I did and hanging up on you. I get it, I really do, I just – I wish things were a little fucking easier,” Joe sighed. 

He sounded tired, as if he hadn’t slept last night, but he also sounded sincere and Jon couldn’t help the smile crossing his lips. As a friend Joe had always seemed so calm and levelheaded, so easy-going and laid-back. He’d always appeared to be the one person out of their group of friends who had his shit together and his emotions in check, but Joe was a big softie under his outward façade and it was interesting and somewhat endearing to see him slowly opening up. 

That had been a month ago and they hadn’t really discussed it since – it was kind of like the elephant in the room whenever they spoke to each other on the phone - but now it was the day before Thanksgiving and Jon was fully armed with his winter jacket and warm clothes, the recently purchased return ticket to Las Vegas feeling like a stone in the inside pocket of his coat. 

A few nights pervious, phone pressed tight against his ear in bed, Joe had _begged_ him to cancel his return flight and just stay in Chicago after the Thanksgiving break. 

“Please,” he’d said. “You’re breaking my heart here. I _miss_ you.” 

And Jon felt like a total dick when he had to let him down because Patrick had never made him feel that indispensible. 

He knew that Joe would be keen to discuss his plans to move back home and he was fully prepared to reassure him – _soon,_ he’d say. _Really fucking soon._ They had a long weekend to enjoy together and Jon wanted to lose it to leisurely sex and long lie-ins, lazy days where he and Joe could simply enjoy each other’s company again after more than two months apart. 

Since Joe had returned home to Chicago, tensions had been fraught. He kept telling him it was only because they’d spent so much time apart that they’d forgotten what it was like simply to _be_ together. When they were apart it was easy for small disagreements to turn into massive, explosive rows. Jon and Joe had had their fair share of arguments during their two months away from each other and they’d always make up and apologize, but it was difficult, because they weren’t physically together. 

When he and Patrick argued – always ridiculous disputes about the things that pissed Jon off - dirty dishes or a messy bathroom; and the things that pissed Patrick off - weed and cocaine - they’d fight it out until they both lost steam and then they’d hug and say sorry, or fuck and tell each other they loved each other. Jon missed not being able to do the same thing with Joe. Their arguments always left a bitter aftertaste; even post apology. 

Waiting for his luggage at the airport in Chicago, Jon couldn’t quite place the feeling inside his chest. It was all nerves, running together with excitement and apprehension. He was shaking – no, he was _buzzing_ at the anticipation of seeing Joe again, at spending Thanksgiving together as a new couple, at his mom’s place - at being able to wrap themselves together at night and wake up in the morning and make slow, lazy love. Jon couldn’t wait for all that. 

 _Can’t wait to push you down on my dick again,_ had been Joe’s last text message before he boarded the plane in Las Vegas - and that had made his balls tighten every time he thought about it. A quick, hot fuck ought to sort them out. 

Joe was all smiles and tight hugs when he greeted him at Arrivals. He looked good and smelt incredible – new cologne and old cigarettes. He was warm and strong and comforting and stood there in front of him, it felt like coming home. 

“You look great,” Joe smiled, pulling away and rubbing Jon’s back. “Excited about this weekend? _Four_ full days together, aren’t I a lucky boy to be graced with your presence for so long?” 

Jon rolled his eyes and knocked his fist gently against Joe’s shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,” he smiled, pulling him back in for another hug. This time Joe seemed to relax into it a little more, his arms wrapping tight around Jon’s middle for a long moment. “It’s good to be back,” he said into Joe’s hair. He meant it – his life in Las Vegas felt like living in limbo; he was neither here nor there, he was just trundling through the days, waiting to be with Joe again. 

“I’ve missed you – these last couple of months have been hard,” Joe told him. Jon sighed into the lapel of Joe’s jacket and nodded his head. 

 _Fucking tell me about it,_ he wanted to say, as he pulled back and smiled in understanding. Joe looked so effortlessly cool and good-looking. Jon swore the guy didn’t even have to try. He was all done up against the Midwest winter in a leather jacket and hoodie underneath, flipped up over his head, long curls poking out from under a knitted beanie. _Fuck, he was sexy._ Jon wanted to grab him by his collar and make out with him but they didn’t kiss until they got back to Joe’s car. In the darkness of the parking garage they had a little more privacy. 

“You look so good. I love your hair like this,” Joe told him pulling the hair at the back of Jon’s head. Jon had let it grow out, it was longer around his ears and the nape of his neck and he was glad Joe approved, for no other reason than it excused his laziness. 

When they kissed it was slow and gentle - hardly even any pressure behind it, just soft, tender lips against lips as they breathed the same air and palmed at each other. 

“I wish this was you moving back home,” Joe said quietly, into his ear, his hands still running through Jon’s hair. Joe’s warm, wet lips pressed kisses along his jaw, back up to his mouth. 

“I know,” Jon agreed after Joe kissed him – and then, “I’m sorry.” 

It would have been so easy to fall immediately into a comfortable routine with Joe. He’d been the one to pump the brakes and sat in the passenger seat of Joe’s car, it kind of gave him a headache. It made his stomach twist. He swallowed and gripped Joe’s knee. “My mom’s looking forward to seeing you again,” he said, changing the subject. 

“Good.” Joe pushed him back and started the ignition. “Watch me charm the socks off my future mother-in-law. Old ladies love me,” he smiled over at him. 

Jon laughed and turned the heating vents up. He felt cold, but his insides were rejoicing in a fuzzy warmth. Their fingers linked on top of Joe’s knee as they pulled out of the parking lot. 

 

* * *

 

Travelling always made Jon feel groggy and dirty and it had been a long night – it was late and he was tired, almost to the point of exhaustion as he stepped under the hot stream of water from the showerhead. It felt good; the water beating down on his skin, the bathroom fogging with steam. He could feel his muscles immediately relaxing under the heat. 

On their way back to Joe’s from the airport they’d stopped by Travis’s place to pick up some weed. William had been there, sans Gabe Saporta, his legs coiled around Travis’s on the couch. Gabe had gone back to New York for Thanksgiving and Travis was leaving the homestead to accompany William to his parents’ house for dinner the next day. 

“Meeting the parents,” Travis had whistled, his fingers scratching idly at William’s scalp as they leant against each other on the couch. “Finally.” 

 _Fucking hell_ , Jon had thought his relationship with Joe was complicated enough. He certainly didn’t envy William and his multifaceted liaisons. 

When Joe’s hand linked with his on Travis’s old, tattered couch, it felt familiar and grounding. It was as if the world outside that room was spinning out of control – all those obligations he had to fulfill back in Vegas before moving back to Chicago… none of them really mattered – not right there, sat beside Joe with their hands entwined. 

Joe always made him feel like the most important person in the world when they were together, so why the fuck wasn’t he moving back to Chicago for him? 

Jon blinked up into the water and wiped the suds from his eyes. He was usually pretty good at making decisions in life, but since his break-up with Patrick he seemed to have been on a loosing streak. Jon sighed and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and padding silently into Joe’s bedroom. 

Joe was laying in bed on top the covers, scrolling through his phone, the outline of his dick visible through his briefs. Jon flopped down onto the bed beside him and closed his eyes. He was so tired, but Joe’s skin was warm against his as he rolled on top of him. 

“Two months, dude,” Joe said, softly, leaning his lips forward and pressing a kiss against Jon’s jaw. “That’s the longest I’ve gone without sex since I was seventeen.” 

Jon laughed and wound his arms down to grab Joe’s ass. “Is that so? Well, I don’t want to keep you waiting…” he replied with a grin. “I want to suck your big, beautiful dick.” Joe’s dick, in case he hadn’t made that obvious, was one of Jon’s biggest turn-ons 

He heard Joe swallow – it was those moments he liked the best; knowing that he made Joe all hot and bothered. “Well, baby, I’m not gonna stop you…” 

Joe fucked him that night, so slow and gentle and desperate that Jon guessed they were making love. It wasn’t their usual style – the hurried, hard fuck - Joe was tender and his orgasm started as a gentle, bubbling build-up before washing over him like a slow tide - one that travelled all the way up through his body and into his jaw as they came together and then lay there, trying to recover. 

“It could be like this all the time if you moved home,” Joe told him, kissing his forehead. It was dark in the bedroom and Joe probably couldn’t see the face Jon pulled at his comment, but he certainly would have felt the way he tensed at his words. 

“Let me at least finish up this semester. A couple more months,” he sighed. Joe rolled off him and settled down close by his side. “It’s not going to kill us.” 

“You said that a couple of months ago…” he pointed out and Joe’s smile was almost sad. He pulled Jon down into his chest and sighed. “I wish I’d never let you accept that goddamn job in Las Vegas. I wish I’d never let you leave, because even _then_ I knew I was in love with you. I knew I was a total sucker for you.” 

Jon looped his arms around Joe’s middle and buried his face into the warmth of Joe’s chest. They were still clammy and sweaty, sticky with come. Jon could feel Joe’s load seeping out of his ass and down his thighs. 

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he decided to speak. “We’ve got this weekend together though,” he pointed out and he heard Joe sigh. 

“Do you actually want to be with me, Jon, or what, because-” 

“Of course I do,” he interrupted, before Joe could get any further. He balled his fists against Joe’s chest and dug his knuckles in. “Fuck, I don’t want you to think that. It’s so far from the truth.” 

“You realize how big of a deal this is for me, right? I’ve never _been_ with anyone like this; I’ve never felt this way about a guy. I’ve never trusted anyone as much as I trust you and I constantly open up to you to try and show you that and I’m never sure if it’s too much or not enough or _what_. Jon, what’s the fucking deal, dude?” 

Jon bit his lip and shifted under Joe’s touch. He was right; even from the very beginning, Joe had been the one to make all the first moves. He’d been sat in the drivers seat since April and Jon had been happy to go along for the ride. Now Joe was breaking, eager for reassurance that all this _meant_ something. Jon needed to speak up before Joe just threw his hands up and said _fuck it_ – even if it did mean repeating the same words over and over again until Joe chose to believe him. 

“I love you. I love you so much; you’re all I ever think about – about me and you, being together. When I left for Las Vegas, I knew back then too, but Patrick and I… we hadn’t long broken up and I didn’t know whether my feelings for you were reciprocated back then or what - so I left. I needed a job and I thought I needed that job more than I needed you and fucking trust me, Joe; I realized how wrong I was about _that_ at almost the exact same minute I watched you walk through the airport. I wanted to tell you I loved you that afternoon we arrived in Salt Lake.” 

Silence filled the room and after a heavy moment, Joe spoke up. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, but his arms tightened around Jon’s shoulders and his lips pushed against the top of his head. 

“Why didn't _you_?" Jon paused. "Because I was scared of getting hurt again – and I wanted to be sure you felt the same way,” he sighed. 

“I always did. You should have told me; I’d have driven you all the way home in a fucking heartbeat, dude.” 

Jon smiled against Joe’s chest and puckered his lips against his collarbone. “Let me get things sorted back in Las Vegas. I’ll save some money and then I’ll come home and we can decide what to do from there…” 

“Okay,” Joe shrugged. “But I need a time-scale. You keep saying a few months. I thought the two months I gave you in September was more than enough time… I want to be with you, baby. _So_ much.” 

Joe calling him _baby_ almost killed him. That was another thing Patrick never did. 

“Give me until December. I’ll hand in my resignation before Christmas and I’ll move back home at spring break,” he said – a bit of give and take, he thought. How could Joe argue with that? 

“Alright,” Joe said – but it wasn’t an _alright_ alright, it was a _whatever_ alright. Jon felt his muscles tensing. He was almost certain that Joe wanted to say more about the situation, wanted to argue with him that spring break was in fucking March and March was still four fucking months away – but he didn’t and eventually he pulled out of Jon’s arms and turned away from him under his thick, winter covers. 

Jon watched his back, waiting for Joe to relax enough to fall asleep, but he didn’t. 

He gave in to sleep before Joe that night. 


	26. Chapter 26

Jon’s mother always got stressed at Thanksgiving – in previous years he and Patrick would go to her house in the morning and despite the fact that she was only cooking for the three of them, she’d wind herself up so much over over-cooked carrots and burnt potatoes that she’d end up in tears over the sink. 

Dinner always turned out well in the end and after the stresses that come with attempting to make a perfect meal _and_ after two or three glasses of wine, she would put her chin in her hand and mention how it was _such_ a shame she’d never have grandchildren. One year she’d even asked them if they’d ever thought about adopting and Jon and Patrick had looked at each other and rolled their eyes and taken that as their cue to leave and go get drunk or high. 

Now he thought about it, he felt kind of guilty, because his mom spent the majority of her time alone and on the rare occasion that she had guaranteed family time, Jon often couldn’t wait to be out of there and doing his own thing. He was kind of a lousy son sometimes. 

Today, he was thankful that his mom was around; having company meant Joe was less likely to nag him about moving home. Their conversation before falling asleep last night had gone unmentioned and Joe had got up and made breakfast for the two of them with the attitude of a man who was trying hard to act like that fact didn’t bother him. Joe was too snappy, the disagreement had left tensions high between them and in the car on their way to his mom’s place, Joe had turned to Jon and said; “I’ll give you until March – only because I really love you, but I swear to god, Jon, if you don’t keep your promise…” 

Joe didn’t articulate a threat, but it hung heavy in the air between them. Jon had leant across the car and rubbed at Joe’s knee as they pulled into his mom’s driveway. 

“I’ll be here. I promise,” he said, leaning over to catch Joe’s cheek with his lips. When he pulled away, his mother was stood in the threshold of the front door, smiling and waving them inside. 

As Jon stood out on his mom’s porch, smoking a cigarette, he could hear Joe and his mom together in the kitchen. Joe was making easy conversation about the meal, helping his mother peel vegetables and it made Jon feel truly relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived in Chicago the previous evening.

The fact that Joe and his mom got on was a huge weight off his mind. She’d been such a big fan of Patrick’s while they’d been together that he thought Joe might have something to live up to, but he was being so ridiculously charming that he was making Jon’s mother blush. It would actually have been pretty funny, if Joe didn’t appear to be such a natural at it. It wasn’t cheesy, but Joe was certainly turning the charisma up to full force - and Jon’s mom was falling for it hook, line and sinker. 

When Jon stubbed out his cigarette and re-entered the warmth of the kitchen, his mom was giggling at some story Joe was telling her, and Joe had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos visible as he stood over the sink and peeled vegetables. 

“Joe was just telling me about what a good time you two had when you both drove out to Las Vegas,” his mother informed him, still grinning wide. Jon didn’t know what Joe had told her - nothing had been _that_ funny. “That seems like so long ago, you moving out there,” she reflected quietly. 

“Tell me about it,” Joe sighed, looking back over his shoulder to fix his eyes on Jon’s. “I keep trying to convince your son to come back home.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. Joe was relentless in his quest to get Jon to return to Chicago and in front of his mother, on any other day of the year, it would have pissed him off, but his mom seemed so happy and relaxed, especially considering it was Thanksgiving, that he just smiled back at Joe and took another slug of beer. 

“Oh, you really _should_ move home, Jon,” his mom said, nudging her elbow into Joe’s side. 

“Yeah, you really should move home, _Jon_ ,” Joe echoed, wiping his hands off on a tea towel and looking at him pointedly. “I need a smoke break, baby. Fancy keeping me company?” he piped up after a small pause. Jon knew what ‘smoke break’ meant – it meant getting high - but the _baby_ almost made him blush. They’d brought a blunt with them and mixed it with tobacco so they wouldn’t get too stoned in front of his mom and it seemed a waste – Travis always had good quality weed, there sure were better ways to smoke it, but Jon’s mom hated her son smoking weed almost as much as she disliked him smoking cigarettes. They were going to have to be sly about it. 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he told Joe as he brushed past him and out of the back door, fingers trailing down his chest as he went. When the screen door swung to a gentle close behind Joe, his mother turned towards him excitedly and actually  _beamed_. 

“He is just _so_ perfect for you. He’s so _nice_ , Jon. Honestly; I really like him.” She pulled him into a tight hug and laughed. “Such a gentleman,” she sighed, “and you two are cute together.” 

So his mother approved – that was one less thing to worry about. _Gentleman_ was pushing it though. Jon had seen Joe almost starting fights on the street; fights with people like Patrick and Pete… fights to protect _his_ honor, so maybe he _was_ more of a gentleman than Jon had ever given him credit for and failing 'gentleman', he certainly was one loyal boyfriend. 

“Good,” he smiled, hooking his chin over the top of his mom’s head. “I’m glad you two are getting on. He’s going to be around for a while.” 

Even though Jon’s short-term future with Joe was foggy, he had his long-term one all planned out and as he stood on the back porch with Joe, getting high, he allowed himself the fantasy of lifelong promises and growing old together. 

By the time dinner was served, Jon was feeling pretty stoned – which was great, because his mom had cooked so much food and such a big turkey, that he was glad he had a serious case of the munchies; but despite his fuggy high, he was very aware of the tension around the table when his mother started asking Joe about his parents. 

He’d told her explicitly over the phone not to ask about Joe’s parents – only because he’d wanted to avoid a situation like the one that was currently hanging over the table. Jon guessed it must have been Thanksgiving tradition for his mom to let loose the inappropriate questions, regardless of who his boyfriend was at the time. 

He wondered how many years it’d take for her to start asking him and Joe when they were going to adopt a little kid and give her the grandchild she so desired. 

“You’re not spending Thanksgiving with your family then, Joe?” she’d asked after she’d poured her third glass of wine. 

“No,” he said, with a shrug of one shoulder. “I don’t have much of a family.” 

Jon didn’t know who felt most uneasy talking about Joe’s childhood – himself or Joe. It felt odd to hear it said like that. Joe rarely talked about his family and Jon didn’t ever ask him about them, because he knew he was ill equipped with trying to deal with something so serious. The man he loved had been an abused child, the son of an alcoholic and a drug-addict – he shouldn’t ever have turned out as stable as he did and sometimes, the thought that Joe’s childhood had been so difficult that he didn’t even _talk_ about it made his heart break. 

His mom straightened up over her dinner plate and she glanced nervously at her son and then back towards Joe. “Oh? I’m sorry, I…” his mother trailed off, realization dawning on her that perhaps she should have kept her big mouth closed. 

There was a silence that followed that made the whole table uncomfortable. In these kinds of situations, Jon wished he was better at small talk, because things were starting to feel a little awkward. 

“Yeah. My mom left when I was young and I never got on with my dad too good, so I don’t speak to either of them these days,” Joe offered eventually. The words flowed easily, but Jon noticed the set of Joe’s jaw and the tension in his shoulders. He rubbed at his leg under the table and Joe’s fingers twisted around his. 

“Thanksgiving and the holidays and birthdays and stuff were always kind of miserable, y’know? Like, in my house, when I was growing up, any day where you were expected to be happy was a total nightmare and as an adult, you get to realize that those holidays are all for families, y’know – to spend time with moms and dads and brothers and sisters and all that shit,” Joe continued, slightly despondently. “Well, I’ve never felt like I had any of that, so it’s nice to be invited _somewhere_ ,” Joe finished with a smile and a forced laugh. “Honestly, it really means a lot.”

He’d never thought about it before; not while he was with Patrick – they’d always had their Thanksgiving ritual – Jon’s mom’s in the morning for dinner and then Patrick’s parents in the evening – both households had always been incredibly welcoming and briefly he let himself wonder where Joe had spent such days – maybe getting high on his couch alone, bitter that he’d been born to such shitty parents. All those years Jon had never given it a second thought, but right now it made him feel uneasy with guilt. He should have known. 

Joe flashed him a reassuring smile – _don’t worry about me,_ it said. _I don’t need your sympathy,_ but this was the man he was making wait until March so that they could be together. _Maybe_ , he thought briefly, _maybe he could speed up that whole process_ , because fuck if Vegas had anything to offer him now, nothing more than a couple of emotionally retarded individuals called Brendon and Ryan, and a naïve groom-to-be. 

After the mood had been thoroughly dampened, Jon’s mom was sensible enough to flash him a big smile. “Well, it’s _so_ nice to have you – and I hope I can expect to see you at Christmas too.” She was a little unsteady on her feet after her third glass of wine as she moved to clear the table and ushered Jon and Joe into the sitting room to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace. 

The rest of the evening was lost to quite a bit more drinking and easy conversation. Joe got on with his mom perfectly and her house was warm and cozy and _fuck,_ Jon thought, lying back on the couch against Joe’s chest, Joe’s arm around his shoulder, _this is how it_ could _be._ He’d missed Chicago; he missed the cold winter air and the promise of snow. He’d missed his mom’s sitting room and feeling relaxed enough to curl against Joe in front of her. He’d always loved the familiarity that he’d had with Patrick; he’d missed that the most about him - but he could have that again with Joe, he thought. Joe ticked every hypothetical box that Jon had ever wished for, he was worth way more than a couple of half-assed promises and a strained long-distance relationship. 

Later that night, after a slice of apple pie that Jon struggled to eat and a comment from his mother that he’d lost too much weight, she rested her head back on the couch and smiled. “I’m feeling a little tipsy,” she informed them. “I’ve got to go to bed. Do you two boys want to stay the night?” 

Jon and Joe were both too drunk to drive and even if they hadn’t have been, Jon had no particular desire to make the long taxi ride to the other side of the city back to Joe’s place – his mom’s house was warm and homely, the thought of his childhood bedroom felt inviting this evening, so Jon accepted her offer and pushed himself up off the couch to say goodnight. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to stay over, but I changed the sheets and put the electric blanket on your bed. That back bedroom gets cold in the winter, so I’ll go turn it on so it’s nice and toasty for you when you come to bed," she babbled. His mom wrapped her arms around Jon’s middle and Jon held tight, feeling Joe step up behind him and engulf them both in a bear hug. 

“God, your mom is so super sweet,” Joe told him, chuckling as they heard his mom climbing the stairs. “She’s like the mom from a movie or something – I didn’t even think women like her existed. You are her little boy though, huh?” Joe teased, poking him in the ribs. 

"Fuck off," he grinned, wrestling Joe's wrists until they eventually stood facing each other, Joe’s hands on Jon’s hips, Jon’s looped around Joe’s neck. “I think she likes you." 

“Well, I’m totally in love with her son, so that’s a bonus, huh?” Joe pressed against him, connecting their lips properly for the first time all day. They fell back on the couch together, making out, Jon only half listening for any noise coming from upstairs. After a few minutes, they were both half-hard and Jon was breathless underneath Joe, their hips grinding against each other. He felt like a teenager – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made out with someone like that on his mother’s couch. He held Joe’s face in his hands and blinked up at him. 

“Shall we finish off that joint before bed?” he asked, climbing to his feet and holding his hand out for Joe. His high had faded since dinner and he led the way to the back door out onto the porch, Joe’s hand warm in his. Once outside, they stood together in silence, looking out into the dark, winter-dead garden in front of him. It was cold. Jon shivered against the brisk, night air.   

“It’s nice,” Joe commented, bringing the joint to his mouth. “This normalcy. It’s nice.” Jon watched the smoke plume from his lips and smiled. The normalcy certainly _was_ nice and it felt comfortable with Joe. “I’ve never had it before and I’m glad I’ve got it with you.” Joe looked at him expectantly and handed him the joint. Now they were stood outside, Jon could feel the affects of that white wine and those beers. He took a hit and held it, stepping in front of Joe and pulling their heads together. 

Joe’s lips hovered in front of his, slightly parted and still a little swollen from their make-out session on the couch. Jon exhaled, watching as Joe sucked up the smoke and then raised his face to the night sky, letting it cloud the air in front of him.  

“I’m glad it’s me too. You know, I’m never happier than when I’m with you.” 

Joe paused and kissed him in response, his tongue slick and hot in his mouth, his hands twisting around his middle, pulling them closer until Jon could feel Joe’s semi-hard dick digging into his hip. Jon deepened the kiss, winding his hands around Joe’s neck and pushing his fingers up into his hair. Joe bent to his will, his body melting against Jon’s until they were both hard and breathing heavily, their hot breaths visible between them. 

 _Fuck, he was going to miss Joe when he went back to Las Vegas._ He pulled back with his eyes closed and pressed his forehead down onto Joe’s shoulder. He squeezed his eyes closed tight, because the thought of being without him made his nose tickle and his throat ache. 

“Bedtime, d’you think?” Joe asked after a moment of holding him. Jon gathered himself up enough to pull back and nod and he took one last, long suck on the joint before smiling up at Joe as they pushed back into the house and tiptoed quietly up the stairs together.  

 

* * *

 

Jon’s childhood bedroom hadn’t changed much since he was a teenager – that’s to say it still had its blank white walls and old desk and a closet that was now filled with his mom’s old clothes and Christmas decorations. 

There _was_ a new addition though – a double bed, neatly made and pushed up into the far corner of the room under the window. Jon had never had the double bed as a youngster. It was something his mom had bought when Jon first got serious with Patrick – somewhere she claimed they could sleep together when they visited, but rarely did. 

As he closed the door quietly behind him and turned on the dim bedside lamp, the room filled with a warm glow and he watched as Joe kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his pants, pushing them slowly down his hips. 

Jon followed suit and joined Joe at the edge of the bed, resuming their kiss. They were both pantless and barefoot as Jon pulled Joe down onto the bed and relaxed against the mattress. The electric blanket that Jon’s mom had switched on for them warming the tense muscles of his back. _God, he was in love._  

Joe pressed down against him, sucking at his neck and Jon couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped his lips. Together, they pulled back the thick comforters and slid down into the warmth of the bed. 

 _It could be like this_ all _the time..._ Joe’s promise from last night reverberated around his head as he pulled him closer, desperate for that intimacy. Joe was right – he was _always_ right. It _could_ be like this – comfortable and familiar and goddamn _normal._ He pressed his hips into Joe’s and pushed his hand under his t-shirt, twisting his nipple gently. 

“I want to fuck you,” he sighed into Joe’s mouth as their lips came together again. 

“Are you not worried about your mom hearing?” he asked, but Joe was already moving down Jon’s body, his wet lips pressing kisses all the way down his neck and around his shoulder. Joe’s fingers were hooked inside the waistband of his briefs, but he didn't make any attempt to touch his dick. 

“She’s a deep sleeper, swear to god, that’s how I managed to sneak out so much as a kid. Plus she drank like, a bottle and a half of wine… I don’t think she’ll wake up,” Jon assured him, closing his eyes as he pressed his palm against the bulge inside Joe’s underwear. His dick was hot and hard. Joe rolled over onto his back, pulling Jon on top of him and opening his legs. “But just to be sure, we’re both going to have to be _really_ quiet…” Jon pressed his finger against Joe’s lips. 

Jon moved down under the covers and tugged at Joe’s underwear, freeing his dick from the confines of the material and he went down on him. He went down on him until Joe was bucking up off the mattress, one hand over his mouth to muffle his moans, the other fisted in the back on Jon’s hair. 

“You wanna fuck me or are you just gonna suck my dick all night? I could really go for either right now,” Joe said, pushing Jon away gently. His question was hushed, spoken quietly in the silence of the room. 

“I really love sucking your dick, but I _do_ want to fuck you. Please. Let me…”

“Oh baby, you don’t have to beg me.” Joe shifted again, pulling the pillow from under his head and positioning it under his hips, raising himself up on the mattress. Jon moved between his legs and smoothed his hands down his thighs. Joe was lying in front of him, naked and hard in the room that Jon grew up in; in a house where he’d always felt safe and cared for. Somewhere he’d always taken for granted. Joe never had a place like this growing up – a sanctuary where he could feel loved. Jon sure as hell wanted to be the one to show him how it felt. 

“I’ve had such a good day,” Joe told him, pulling him in by his neck for a kiss. “I’m glad it’s ending like this. Baby, I couldn’t ask for more…” 

Jon hushed him, smoothing his hair back off his face as he knocked Joe’s thighs apart and sucked two fingers into his mouth. He dipped them between Joe’s legs and pressed the tip of his middle finger into his asshole, his tight ring stretching around his digit. 

On the mattress below him, Joe’s eyes closed softly and Jon finger-fucked him for a moment before drawing back and inserting a second finger. Joe writhed beneath him and when Jon pushed his fingers all the way in and curled up towards Joe’s balls, he watched as he let a silent, helpless ‘ _fuck’_ fall from his lips. 

“Please tell me you’ve got lube, Jon – I’m still kinda new to this.” Joe’s words left his mouth in a breathless rush and Jon hushed him, dropping his head against his chest and sucking at a nipple. 

Lubricant wasn’t something he routinely packed when he visited his mother’s house, but there had to be something they could use around here somewhere. He and Patrick had fucked in this bed before and they usually managed it with a bit of spit and willpower, but he sat up and reached blindly over to the bedside drawer, his fingers still buried deep inside Joe’s ass. 

Nothing in the first drawer - Jon pushed it closed and opened the middle one – nothing but a ton of foreign coins and old batteries. He cursed silently – he didn’t _want_ to have to creep into the bathroom to find something that would suffice, but he would if he needed to. His desire was pulsing through him and a mutual jerk-off probably wouldn’t cut it. 

In the third drawer, right at the very back, behind Jon’s old report cards and a few old, family photographs there was a small tube of KY jelly and _fucking thank god…_ Jon unscrewed the cap and squeezed a generous dollop into his palm, slicking his fingers. 

He was slowly easing a third finger into Joe when he arched his back up off the mattress and let out a moan. “Oh god, please. I’m ready. _Fuck_ me, baby – wanna feel you…” 

Jon stiffened at his words and pulled his fingers away, wiping them on the comforter. Joe was splayed out in front of him, willing and desperate and looking so fucking hot in the dim orange glow of the bedside lamp, tattoos dark, his big dick hard against his stomach. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Jon murmured, moving between Joe’s legs and pushing his knees against his chest. He guided his dick against his asshole with one hand. “I can’t believe it took us ten years to realize we are fucking perfect for each other,” he whispered, pressing his lips against Joe’s ear as he pushed inside. 

Joe’s muscles resisted for a second before relaxing enough to give way to Jon’s dick and he tipped his head back on the pillow, exposing his neck. Jon moved his lips to mouth at the stubble on Joe’s jaw, pressing hard kisses down his throat and along his clavicle. Joe felt fucking amazing. The weed and the booze and the warmth of Joe’s body underneath him all mixed together, making his inside feel fuzzy. 

“I feel like I’ve wasted so much of my life not being with _you_. Fuck, I wish we’d have figured this out when we were seventeen,” he breathed, inching inside slowly, drawing back and making Joe curse before pressing back in. 

“Mmh,” Joe managed, his fingers digging into Jon’s shoulder, eyes closed. “Me too. Fuck, Jon, me too…” Joe’s voice was heavy and dry and he licked his lips to wet his mouth. Jon pressed a kiss down against Joe’s jaw and thrust all the way in, eliciting a loud moan from Joe. 

“Shh,” he grinned into the pillow. “You’ll wake my mom. God, you feel fucking amazing,” Jon sighed, moving slowly, his muscles already quivering at the feeling of Joe’s ass clenching tight around the base of his dick. 

“Better than your boy Ryan then?” Joe smiled with his eyes closed. 

“Christ, he doesn’t even compare.” He really didn’t. Jon moved his hand down Joe’s arm and intertwined their fingers; he brought them up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “And beside, you’re the only boy I need. You’re all I want,” he whispered, moving his hips, watching Joe’s eyes as they blinked open and locked on his. “I’m gonna come back home to you as soon as possible, I promise. I fucking love you, Joe. _Fuck_ , I’ve never felt this way about anyone else…” 

Jon could feel the white heat pricking his toes. He could feel his fingers tingling as his orgasm approached and he fucked deliberately into Joe’s ass, catching his prostate and making him groan. Joe’s muscle tightened around him, his hand came down around his ass and squeezed and Jon buried his face hard into the pillow beside Joe’s cheek. He was almost there… “ _Fuck_ ,” he gasped. “Tell me you love me, baby.” 

“Dude – I _do_. I love you. I love you so fucking- Christ, dude, _right_ there. I gonna fucking come.” 

Jon concentrated on getting the angle just right, moving his dick in and out as he attempted to hold back his approaching orgasm. 

“Come with me, baby,” Jon urged a minute later, as soon as the physical and mental stimulation crossed paths and he felt himself pass over the edge. “Look at me.” 

Joe’s blue eyes opened and locked blearily on Jon’s. He pressed his palm between their stomachs and wrapped his fingers around Joe’s dick, squeezing the shaft. Joe keened, arching his back off the mattress as Jon held him down by his shoulders, fucking him a little harder, a little faster as they both approached climax. 

The bed creaked under their weight and Jon pushed his face flush against the side of Joe’s neck and inhaled his scent – some kind of men’s shampoo and old cologne. He bucked his hips forward, feeling his balls tighten, his eyes closed tight, nose buried in Joe’s hair, his fingers digging hard into his shoulder. He pulled back with effort to kiss the man underneath him and held his face. 

“I’m gonna – _fuck_ , Jon… Fuck, I’m…” The rest of Joe’s words were left muffled under Jon’s hand and then Jon could feel it, could feel Joe’s asshole tightening around him as he peaked, could feel his muscles clench and then melt and then Jon felt Joe shoot his load between their bodies, could feel his sticky, wet come on his chest and over his fingers as he bit his own orgasm into the pillow and spilt inside Joe’s ass, riding out before collapsing to an abrupt halt. 

“Mmh. That was great,” Joe smiled after a long moment. “But uh… kinda uncomfortable right now.” He felt Joe shift underneath him and grunted, lifting himself up off the mattress and pulling out. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, falling immediately back down onto the bed with a contented sigh. He rested his hand on Joe’s chest and felt the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Joe’s hand came up to intertwine their fingers. 

“I don’t want to curse this or nothing, _but_ ,” Joe paused for effect. “I’ve never been happier than I am now. Dude, fucking nothing is going to get in the way of us being together and if you need time to sort your shit out in Vegas, then I’ll wait. I waited almost thirty years for you, man – another couple of months ain’t shit.” 

Jon chuckled softly and rubbed his hand across Joe’s chest. He felt relaxed and satisfied, his muscles loose after his orgasm. He felt truly happy – he and Joe were finally on the same page and who knew, maybe the next few months could be fun as they planned Jon’s move back to Chicago. He’d get Joe to fly out to Vegas, they could take another week to drive back to Illinois. Jon thought about it as he felt his eyes close – romantic camping trips out by the Salt Lake, a return to all those shitty motel rooms where their relationship had blossomed. 

He reached over to switch off the lamp on the bedside and the room fell into a comfortable darkness. Joe moved up behind him, pulling Jon up against his chest and slotting their bodies together. 

This all felt so comfortable and easy – him and Joe, _being_ together. Joe was the axis that Jon had been spinning around for months, the one person keeping him human and fuck if he was ever going to let that go. He could already hear soft snores emanating from the man behind him and he smiled against the pillow. 

“Love you,” he whispered, knocking his foot back into Joe’s ankle. Joe’s body jerked awake and the snoring stopped but he soon settled back down behind him, mumbling his words sleepily under his breath. 

“My whole life everybody who was meant to love me walked away from me. Promise me this, _please_ – don’t leave me.” 

Jon’s nose tickled at the candor of the words, but in his next breath Joe was asleep, breathing softly behind him, his breath warm on Jon’s shoulder. 

 _Never, dude. Fucking never,_ Jon said to himself as he closed his eyes in the darkness and bit his lip hard between his teeth to stop the emotion spilling out.


	27. Chapter 27

Jon woke up feeling happy and loved, Joe still sleeping beside him, naked and warm under the covers. He turned onto his side and made a grab for his phone. 

6.15 AM _._ It was still early and Jon could feel how cold the air outside of the bed was, so he snuggled deeper under the covers and shifted himself up around Joe, hooking his fingers around his hip. Joe stirred, making a grab for Jon’s hand with his own, pulling it around his chest – but he didn’t wake up. 

Jon delighted in these moments – the small, barely awake moments that made a relationship. He pressed a soft kiss against Joe’s shoulder and let his eyes blur staring at the colorful patterns on his arms. He was thankful it was only Friday morning – he still had a full weekend with Joe in Chicago and he was looking forward to a lazy couple of days – mornings just like this, waking up slowly together - mornings that would be few and far between up until March. 

Jon blinked, resting his forehead against Joe’s shoulder in resignation. He was going to miss this when he headed back to Las Vegas – he didn’t know why he was punishing himself so much. He wanted to move back to Chicago as much as Joe wanted him to, but he was worried about people thinking he was a quitter. He was worried about friends nodding his way and saying _I told you so,_ because William and Gabe and even Travis had all told him that his decision to move out to Nevada had been pretty hasty. 

The only one who’d ever really encouraged him to do what he thought was right had been Joe, who at the time would probably have been the only one who’d have stood a chance at getting him to stay. Joe had only ever wanted Jon to be happy and now they were in a big, miserable mess because they’d both been too cautious to admit to their true feelings. Jon let out a dissatisfied sigh and pulled Joe’s body tighter against his chest. 

 _Look on the bright side,_ he tried to tell himself, _you’ve still got two and a half more days together; and Christmas isn’t far away. March will be along in no time._  

If he’d have been asked to pinpoint that exact moment, he’d have claimed he was the happiest he’d been in a long time – warm and content and semi-hard between his legs, remembering the sex they’d shared last night; but the bigger picture filled Jon with unease, because right there in his arms was the man he loved and their moments together like this were limited. He liked sleeping next to someone. Next to Joe.   

Jon tried to put himself in Joe’s position. Doing that was tricky, because Joe always seemed so calm and in control. Before their road trip out to Las Vegas, he’d had no idea about Joe’s tumultuous childhood or his drug-addict mother. He’d been aware of his lousy, alcoholic father, but only vaguely, at the back of his mind. It had been talked about amongst their group for years, but never by Joe, which is why the details were always so foggy. It made him miserable to think that he never had the love and support Jon always received from his family growing up. 

The fact that Joe somehow managed to grow into the man sleeping next to him was astonishing considering his shitty upbringing and Jon wondered how it felt to go through life for so long and to never hear anyone tell you they loved you. Jon had always had his mom and then he’d had Patrick, but Patrick had turned out to be a liar and his mom was his _mom,_ she was always going to love him, regardless. Expect Joe’s parents hadn’t ever loved him and if they did, they sure had a fucked up way of showing it. 

When he thought about it his heart clamped up and his throat hurt. He wondered how it must feel for Joe, having waited so long to find a real, meaningful relationship, only to have it delayed by the man he’d fallen in love with. If Joe had been as dithering as he’d had, he’d have grown impatient by now, he’d probably have thrown his hands up and just said _fuck it._ Maybe – but love was pretty resilient, so perhaps he’d have hung on in there too. 

 _Time waits for no man_ , Jon remembered. He’d been dallying about for _months_ – even his move to Las Vegas hadn’t taken _this_ much thought, so he couldn’t understand why he was so cautious about moving back to Chicago. 

Jon knew why. He was cautious because Patrick had burned him. He’d _trusted_ Patrick; his partner of six years - he’d always thought they’d be together forever and he’d been so blindly smitten with him and everything their relationship stood for that he’d not even noticed the evidence that was right under his nose. 

It had hurt; finding out the man he loved had been screwing around behind his back – and not even just screwing around, but actually _falling in love_. The infidelity he may have been able to forgive – _maybe._ Maybe if it was a one-time thing when Patrick was high, but he’d had his heart broken and Patrick had made him feel worthless, like he wasn’t fit to love – and when he thought about it that way, his reservations about moving back home started to make a little more sense. He just didn’t want to be hurt again. 

Joe was great though – he was funny and honest and sexy. He was great in bed and had an incredible dick – and Joe really loved him; Jon knew he did, but considering they were starting out as a new couple, between them they didn’t have a very good track record. Joe had never been in a relationship before and Jon’s ex boyfriend had slept with a guy that Jon hated for the better part of two years. 

He was apprehensive about giving himself so completely to someone again because he couldn’t go through the headache of another messy breakup. Especially with someone like Joe - Joe was _perfect_ for him, even his mother had said so, and he stood by the declarations he’d made last night. He really _did_ love Joe _and_ he wanted to stand by him - through thick and thin… because that’s what love meant to him. That’s what it was all about. 

What was the point in even being alive if he wasn’t willing to take a few risks for the man he loved? 

Jon didn’t often dream – he’d smoked too much weed in his lifetime for that, but recently his subconscious had been providing him with an abundance of anxiety nightmares. He’d usually forget about them as soon as he woke up, but that unexplainable feeling of fear would sit uneasily in the pit of his stomach for some moments after waking. It was usually waves - bottomless, dark oceans of water washing over him and drowning him and he was deep inside one such nightmare and struggling to rise to the surface when he blinked his eyes open to see Joe leaning over him, freshly showered and fully dressed. 

“Get up, lazy bones,” he smiled, pulling the covers from around Jon’s face. “It’s almost midday. I’ve been up for hours; your mom and I already ate breakfast. You slept for _ages_.” 

“Maybe it’s jetlag,” Jon yawned, sitting up in bed and kicking the covers off. That unwelcome feeling of distress caused by his nightmare had already disappeared. 

Joe sat down on the foot of the bed and looped his fingers around Jon’s ankle. “That sex was good last night. It really turns me on; the way that you fuck me.” 

Jon smiled sleepily and lay back down on the mattress, pulling Joe with him by his wrist. If he could have his own way, he’d have stayed in bed all day – smoking weed, getting high and making love. 

Joe rested his head on Jon’s chest and traced his fingers around his nipple, pulling a soft hiss from Jon’s lips when he tweaked it. “You _promise_ you’ll be back home by March?” Joe asked, quietly. 

“Yeah.” Jon smoothed down Joe’s wild curls and nodded. “I promise. You should come out to Vegas before Christmas though. My friend Spencer is getting married. He invited us both to the wedding. You should come out alone, maybe make a week of it… and then I can come back for the Holidays with you.”   

Joe huffed and pushed up from the mattress, climbing off the bed. He stood in front of Jon and straightened his shirt. “You’re turning into an expensive habit all the way out there in Las Vegas,” he noted. “And what’s all this about a wedding? You never told me about that. You want me to come with you; _what_ , as your date?” 

Jon quirked his eyebrow at Joe as he got up from the bed and picked through his clothes on the floor. “What d’you mean, _as my date?_ As my _partner_ ,” he reiterated. “That’s what couples do, Joe; they attend weddings together. I’d like you to be there.” 

“Yeah, well. I want _you_ here, but I have to wait until March, so…” 

Jon straightened up as he pulled his jeans on. “So you’re going to make me go alone?” he asked – and as soon as he said it, he knew he shouldn’t have bothered being so petty, because Joe’s eyes rolled and he shrugged, looking uncomfortabe.  

“Yeah, no… _fuck_ , I don’t know. Go with Ryan,” he suggested, turning away. 

“Are you fucking _serious_?” Jon spat, his anger building quickly. “ _‘Go with Ryan’?_ Dude, what the _fuck_?” He pulled his shirt on and glared over at Joe. Maybe this is how Joe felt being made to wait for Jon to get his shit together and move home. Frustrated as fuck. He put his hands on his hips and waited for a reaction. When it didn’t come, he squared his jaw and asked the question. “You think I’m fucking Ryan behind your back?” 

“You’d better _not_ be fucking Ryan behind my back,” he told him, glowering. Jon refused to look away. After a moment, Joe caved. He waved his hand in front of his face and said, “I’m sorry, okay? Fuck, I didn’t mean it. Come on, stop _looking_ at me like that…” 

Jon turned his eyes up to the ceiling and then down to the floor. “Do you not trust me or something, why would you say something like that? I asked you to accompany me to a goddamn wedding, Joe, I’m not asking you to uproot your life and move out to Vegas with me.” 

This was stupid - starting an argument that he already knew he was going to lose, after Joe had already said sorry. 

“Not fucking _trust_ you? I left you in Las Vegas not twelve hours after we fucked your co-worker-” 

“Keep your damn voice down,” Jon spat under his breath, glancing towards the bedroom door. His mom was probably listening at the foot of the stairs. The reality of the situation was that they were bickering in his old bedroom, after an incredible Thanksgiving and awesome sex the night before. 

“Of _course_ I trust you – and you know what, I would, you know. I _would_ move out to Vegas with you. I’d sell my house and quit my job and move out there to be with you because I fucking _love_ you, man and I fucking hate Las Vegas. Trust me, two or three days in that city is enough for me, but Chicago’s pretty fucking miserable without you, so why the hell are we going around in circles, breaking our necks and still living in two goddamn separate states, dude?” 

Jon paused and blinked over at Joe. He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. “I thought you understood my situation… I said March, I can’t just stay here after this weekend and not turn up at work next week – I’d never get another job again; everyone’d be wondering why the hell I’d lost two jobs in less than a year.” 

Joe shrugged and sighed heavily, “Whatever, dude,” he said, turning towards the bedroom door away from Jon. 

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me halfway through an argument. Patrick used to do that and it used to really piss me off.” 

Joe turned towards him; eyes hard, jaw set. “I am not goddamn Patrick. I’m _not_ him. I’m not going to fucking cheat on you, if that’s what you’re so worried about.” 

The comment brought Jon to an abrupt halt, because that _was_ what he was worried about – he was worried about stupid, trivial things; things that hadn’t even happened yet. He was worried about coming home one day to find Joe in bed, fucking another man. He was worried that one Wednesday morning he’d have to sit in his car and be told their relationship was over. Stupid really, to imagine the end of a relationship before it had even really begun. 

“I _love_ you,” Joe said, taking a slow step towards him and pulling Jon in by his shoulders, “and fuck, I’ll come to that fucking wedding with you. Man, you’re getting me all domesticated.” 

Jon laughed, but it sounded hollow. 

“It’s okay to be scared, you know? I know I am sometimes. I’ve spent so much time on my own that it’s hard having to adjust to thinking about someone else, but I don’t want anything less. I want _you_ and I want us to _be_ something; something more than two dudes who get on and have great sex and see each other for a couple days every few months – and fuck, I guess I’m just going to have to wait.” Joe’s arms were wrapped around Jon’s shoulders, holding him tight against his chest. “I don’t want to, but I will.” 

Jon swallowed and pushed back. “Thank you,” he said, running his hands down Joe’s arms and squeezing at his elbows. “I’m sorry if my previous relationship fucked me up that I’m cautious about, y’know – letting go. I really want this to work.” 

Joe nodded his head and gave him a half-smile. “Me too. I remember my dad saying to me, ‘ _you are such a little freak, no one’s_ ever _going to love you,’_ and I guess I believed him - right up until you told me in the hotel room when you came back for my birthday.” He held eye contact for a few moments. Jon was the first one to sigh and look away. He had to bite his lip so damn hard to stop that admission from getting to him. 

If he ever met Joe’s dad, he was going to have a hard time keeping his opinions to himself. He couldn’t imagine hating _anything_ as much as Joe’s dad must have hated Joe, but he sure as hell wanted to slam his fist into that fucker’s face for being such a prick when he was a kid. 

“Jon!” His mom’s voice travelled shrilly up the stairs. “You awake up there yet? What’s taking so long?” 

“We’ll be down now,” he called, pulling away from Joe and struggling into his hoodie. 

“Come on,” Joe cajoled, draping his arm around Jon’s shoulder. “We’ll be alright.” He leant over and pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

In the back of his mind, Jon knew they’d be alright, because he couldn’t imagine his life with anyone other than Joe by his side, but really – he didn’t know who needed the most reassurance, himself or Joe. 


	28. Chapter 28

Jon and Joe were back at Joe’s place by the early afternoon. Outside the air was crisp and the sky was bleak, threatening a snow that had been trying hard to fall for the last week or so, Joe had told him; but Joe’s house was warm and inviting and they sat in the kitchen, a packet of cigarettes and the expensive bottle of scotch Jon had bought for Joe’s birthday on the table between them. 

They were two glasses in by the time Joe turned the conversation around to Jon’s friends in Las Vegas and asked how they were getting on. 

“Spencer’s super excited about his wedding – he’s been with his fiancée now for ten years or something ridiculous, but he really wanted me to invite you as my plus one, _so_ … can’t let the man down now, can we?” He trod carefully – he didn’t want another argument; he didn’t want Joe to feel that he was all give, give, give and Jon was all take, take, take. It kind of seemed that way. 

Joe paused to take another sip of his scotch. “Is it going to be cool, or will it be weird – you know; with Ryan there? Does he have a date for this wedding?” 

He sighed. It probably _would_ be weird, he deduced. He hated to admit it, but after Jon had brought up the fact that he’d run into Brendon at that gay club, Ryan had been acting a little… _unusual_ around him. 

“He doesn’t have a date that I’m aware of, but what’s up with Gabe? Is he single now?” 

After his birthday, Ryan had told him that Gabe had contacted him on Facebook, but that was all Jon knew of the matter and Ryan hadn’t spoken any more of it. Now though, it seemed that William was hooking up with Travis again and Gabe had returned to New York for Thanksgiving, alone. William and Gabe’s relationship had seemed rocky even when they visited Jon in Las Vegas back in September and it really was no surprise that the two men had parted ways. _In a couple of months they’ll probably be back together again_ , Jon told himself. They were one of those irritating _can’t-live-with-each-other, can’t-live-without-each-other_ -type couples. It irked Jon a little that they'd never defined their relationship. Personally, he'd never have been able to do it - carry on like that with someone, to live with someone and sleep with someone without ever specifying what was going on.

“Why, what’s happened with Gabe?” Joe asked, eyebrows knotting. “You want to set him up with _Ryan_?” 

He shrugged. _Did he?_ Jon didn’t know. If Gabe was single, he was probably best left to his own devices. He was pretty sure Gabe didn’t need any help on the dating scene; especially from someone like Jon, who didn't know the first thing about dating anymore. He'd got lucky with Joe. Gabe and Ryan _might_ work, if the stars aligned just right and the whole universe was on their side; Jon knew as much as they found each other attractive, but he didn’t want to get involved. William was one of his best friends and he didn’t know enough about the situation to know how he would take the news. 

Maybe if Gabe hooked up with Ryan though it’d get him out of Jon’s hair for five minutes. Since that threesome he’d been acting kind of peculiar around Jon. Ryan’s enthusiasm for his relationship with Joe during the days following had quickly diminished and the majority of the time, around other people, Ryan acted almost normal but when they were alone he became inappropriately suggestive – something that Jon hadn’t told Joe during their nightly conversations over the phone. 

“Why did he and Bill break up?” 

 _‘Break up’_ wasn’t particularly the correct phrase to use – William and Gabe had never been officially together. _Casual lovers,_ William had called it once. Joe blew a breath out through his mouth that ruffled the hair that hung over his face before taking another sip of his drink and licking his lips. Jon wanted to grab that hair, bite that lip and straddle his hips. He wanted to feel Joe get hard underneath him as they made out. 

“I don’t know. After we got back from Las Vegas for your birthday, they just…” he shrugged again. “Gabe went back to New York last week, William’s been spending all his time with Travis. I try not to get involved with all that; it’s none of my business, really.” 

Jon rolled his eyes, frustrated at the lack of information he’d managed to get out of Joe. Considering his and Joe's relationship had been a great source of ridicule and fodder to William and Gabe, Joe was certainly not paying the same interest in their relationship. 

“Is Ryan cool with you back in Vegas though?” he asked. 

It would have been easier to say, _yeah, everything’s fine, not awkward at all_ and leave it at that, but Jon sighed and sipped his scotch and attempted to make sense of their suddenly complex friendship in front of Joe. 

“Dude, I thought _our_ relationship was complicated,” he said, “but we’re surrounded by people who are in way weirder fucking relationship that the two of us – Bill and Gabe, Ryan and Brendon; you know, the dude we ran into at that club? The only one who seems to have his shit together is Spencer.” 

He’d spent a lot of time with Spencer after he had finally figured out Jon’s sexual preferences. He talked about his wedding a lot, he showed Jon table plans and song choices and asked his opinion on everything from the venue to the shoes Haley had made him buy, but sometimes Spencer asked him about Joe, about how he was and what he was doing – because, bless him, he was trying really hard to get to know a little more about them. 

Spencer was actually kind of sweet once you looked past the fact that for the past five months, he’d talked exclusively about his wedding and had dropped a few casual, homophobic remarks - but Spencer sure as hell carried a lot less drama around with him than Ryan or Brendon. 

Brendon had tried his very best to avoid Jon during the week following his birthday. He stopped going to Jon’s car to get high at lunchtime, which only resulted in some awkward drives to the nearest fast food parking lot with Ryan, trying to avoid his long looks and suggestive flirtations. If he was any less of a man, he could have chosen to fuck Ryan at any time, but it didn't seem right anymore - not without Joe there. That image; Joe's finger in Ryan ass beside his dick never failed to get him off during lonely jerk-off sessions back in his apartment. 

It was during those lunchtime drives that Ryan had slowly revealed himself to be a bit more invested in his relationship with Jon than Jon was. Ryan had started suggesting they hook up - behind Joe’s back. It was always light-hearted and easy to laugh off and the comments were few and far between, but it was the way Jon caught Ryan looking at him that sometimes made him regret their threesome. 

That threesome had been one of the hottest experiences of his life, but he wished he could neatly cap it off and hide it away and use it for masturbatory material only. He didn’t like having to deal with the consequences of fucking one of his co-workers. Now Ryan kept doing things like touching his thigh when he told a joke and attempting games of footsie under the table at the bar on Friday nights – sometimes even in school, right in front of everyone. Maybe he was doing it to make Brendon jealous Jon would have told himself if Brendon had ever given him any indication that he cared about what he and Ryan were doing. 

During his Friday nights at Cosmo’s, Ryan had slowly opened up to him about his short-lived and, it seemed, one-sided relationship with Brendon Urie. 

When Brendon had started teaching at the school, Ryan had been curious about him. He’d thought Brendon was one of the most handsome men he’d ever met – he liked his eyes and that big, honest smile and he was kind of dorky, which had done nothing but enamor Ryan towards him even more. Ryan had experimented with dudes before, but claimed it had always been pretty lousy until he hooked up drunkenly with Brendon one night. 

They were already living together. Brendon had been working at the school for a few months and had already banged one of the female art teachers, but he had flirted with Ryan at any given opportunity – so long as they were alone, that is. 

When Spencer or Haley were around, or when they were sat in the school staffroom together, Brendon acted like Ryan didn’t exist. He only flirted with Ryan when they were out at a bar together, or sat alone in Ryan’s sitting room, smoking that shitty weed or kicking back with a few bottles of beer. 

Of course, it was _that_ exact behavior that drew Ryan toward Brendon even more. 

 _Women are always complaining about how men are such dickheads but yet they can’t help falling for the heartless bastards,_ Ryan had sighed one Friday evening, after his fourth vodka tonic. _Well, I totally get it now, because that’s exactly the way I felt about Brendon._  

Brendon came onto him one Saturday night, Ryan had explained – the classic, romantic kiss scenario; both of them sat close up against each other on the couch, after more than a few PBRs, shoulders and knees touching and Brendon kept turning his head when he spoke to him, smiling at him and laughing and then one time, Brendon glanced over at him for a little longer and his smile lingered and then they were inching toward each other until their lips touched and Brendon’s hand came up to cup Ryan’s jaw. It was all tongues and heat and Brendon’s hard dick underneath Ryan’s palm. 

 _Well, that all sounds very romantic_ , Jon had commented stoically after Ryan had finished his no holds barred description of their first kiss. 

He remembered his first kiss with Joe – stood against him in the bathroom cubicle at William’s birthday party after two lines of coke, but he couldn’t remember it in _that_ much detail. He _had_ been on drugs though, so it was no wonder the finer aspects of that night were kind of foggy. 

They had started an affair; a whirlwind relationship that Ryan was positive meant more to Brendon than he had ever admitted. They fucked for months – every time Brendon was drunk or high, he’d knock on Ryan’s bedroom door and slip between his sheets and there they’d explore each other in the dark. Brendon would suck Ryan’s dick ( _not quite as good as you,_ Ryan had dropped in, glancing up at Jon. Jon had felt almost proud) and they would jerk each other off and sigh each other’s names as they came and Brendon would _beg_ Ryan to let him fuck him – and Ryan would always give in to him; even when Brendon came in wasted. 

 _I think Brendon was the first person I ever really fell in love with,_ Ryan had told him, over the table that Friday night. 

He would always expect a different reaction. After every orgasm, Brendon would apologize and slink off back to his own room, leaving Ryan to dwell in his post-orgasm guilt alone. 

In private Brendon was sweet and caring – for the short amount of time it always took Ryan to agree to go to bed with him; and they _did_ get on well – Ryan had wanted to make that clear; he wasn’t telling Jon all this to drag Brendon’s name and reputation through the dirt. Brendon made him laugh; he made Ryan feel good about himself. He made Ryan feel attractive - and all _that_ was real, Ryan claimed – all those feelings were real. It was just a shame the rest of it was based on lies. 

Brendon had made Ryan fall in love with him and then shut him off, almost as soon as Ryan admitted his feelings. Brendon had a religious family, somewhere out in the Las Vegas suburbs and Brendon didn’t ever talk about them and Ryan had never met them, but he hated them. Well, Jon could sympathize with that feeling. 

Brendon’s family didn’t agree with homosexuality because the bible forbade it – which was Brendon’s excuse for not wanting to go public. He hadn’t meant for what he had with Ryan to turn into anything more than experimental sex. _My family don’t agree with my lifestyle as it is_ , _what with me leaving the church,_  Brendon had told Ryan a few months before Jon started working at the school, at the culmination of their relationship. There was no way they’d accept a gay son. _No way in fucking hell_ , were Brendon’s words, verbatim, via Ryan. 

“That’s bullshit,” Joe commented after Jon had finished explaining the Brendon/Ryan situation. He exhaled smoke from out his nose and shook his head. “No one should be made to pretend to be someone they’re not through fear their parents might not agree.” 

Jon sighed and nodded and flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette. He didn’t get it either, but Brendon _did_ seem to be truly happy with Sarah, so maybe it _was_ just a phase for him; a little sexual experimentation to see what worked, what turned him on. Perhaps the religious parents were just a bad excuse not to commit to a relationship. Jon hadn’t talked to Brendon about it, but Ryan liked to think he had it all figured out – Brendon Urie, the heartbreaker; the man who’d always been so open and amiable towards Jon had clamped down and retreated into himself since the incident at Jon’s birthday and Jon couldn’t quite figure out why. 

Maybe he was ashamed of his little dalliance with Ryan or maybe he was worried about Sarah finding out and dumping him. Sarah was goddamn beautiful; it was hardly any wonder why Brendon wanted to marry her. Or perhaps his heterosexual relationship with Sarah was all a sham? Maybe Brendon really _was_ gay – just like Ryan had suggested. Maybe Brendon needed a wife to appease his parents. 

Jon huffed out a frustrated sigh. When he moved out to Las Vegas, he’d never imagined getting so emotionally invested with those guys. Spencer talked _at_ him – constantly – about things Jon didn’t care about, Brendon had spent the past two months deliberately trying to avoid him and even when they _did_ hang out, Brendon would only go on and on about what a great girlfriend he had, how sexy she was, how many times they’d had phone sex since she left Nevada. Brendon was graphic, he didn’t leave out any details and the more Jon listened, the clearer he could hear the desperation, the _I’m-not-gay-look-at-all-the-straight-sex-I-have_ crisp on his voice. 

“Ryan’s been kind of weird,” he admitted to Joe eventually. “I mean, he said it wouldn’t mess up our friendship, you know, but…” 

“Dude,” Joe started, shaking his head as if Jon was stupid. “You had his dick in your mouth when you asked that question, he’s hardly gonna tell you the truth. Of course it was going to make things awkward. It always does.” 

Jon looked down into his scotch glass. “Oh, and you’re an expert are you? You must’ve had a lot of threesomes to know that.” He glanced back up at him with a smile and Joe grinned back. 

“A few,” he admitted. “Back in my heyday. The one with you though was probably the hottest. I want to record you sucking my dick, I want you to see how hot you look.” 

“No,” Jon said, downing the last of his drink. “I’m good. Not after how much shit that got me into last time.” 

Joe refilled his glass. “So you’ll do it for Patrick and not for me?” he pouted. “That’s not fair.” He felt Joe’s foot kick gently into his shin underneath the kitchen table. “You looked hot – sucking Ryan’s cock. You could probably do that full time; quit your teaching job, make a living out of deep throating huge dick on camera.” 

Jon laughed and rolled his eyes as Joe raised his glass. “Is that what you want?” he asked, stretching back in the wooden kitchen chair. “To bring me back to Chicago and push me into a life of cheap porno?” 

“Not without me there, I don’t, but at least you enjoy it. Nothing worse than watching porn when the guys are obviously not into it.” 

Jon hummed in agreement. Joe was great – he was glad the mood had lightened since their spat this morning. Things had been stressful for Jon, what with two lonely months in Las Vegas trying to brush off Ryan’s advances and the cold shoulder treatment he was getting from Brendon, he’d not had a very good time - and Joe had been so persistent in trying to convince him to come back to Chicago that Jon always felt on edge; as if he could never really relax. There was always something of great importance nagging at the back of his mind. 

Now though, sat in the warmth of Joe’s kitchen, sharing a bottle of scotch and a couple of cigarettes he felt at ease. Joe was making happy conversation and the drink was flowing. They talked about a lot of stuff and as the day wore on, they swapped their cigarettes for joints. Joe was convinced that Travis was a better match for William than Gabe was. Jon still wasn’t too sure. 

“Travis is way more easy going. Bill needs that,” Joe told him, finishing off the last of his drink and pushing his chair back to swill it out under the faucet. “But Ryan and Gabe, huh - flirting with each other? D’you think we should tell him we slept with him at your birthday party?” Joe looked back at him over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Best not,” he laughed, stepping up behind Joe in front of the sink and wrapping his hands around his hips. He kissed his shoulder and slid his palms around the front of Joe’s pants, undoing the top button on his jeans slowly as Joe pushed back against him. “We might make him jealous…” 

They’d finished off a good third of the bottle together – and in quite a short space of time too, he was feeling warm and giddy after those joints – he wanted to fuck again. As Joe washed the few dirty plates that sat in the sink, Jon pressed his hands into his pants, cupping his warm dick inside of his underwear... 

Jon was on his knees on the linoleum of the kitchen floor, Joe’s dick halfway down his throat when they were interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. 

“Fuck. _Jesus_! Can you get that?” Joe asked as Jon pulled back and got hastily to his knees. “We need a _Do Not Disturb_ sign on the front door, man. People always call round at the worst times.” 

He’d been enjoying that – sucking Joe off in the kitchen, Joe’s hand in the back of his hair, his hips pushing forward. It definitely would have led to sex – hot sex bent over the kitchen table with Joe stood behind him, fucking his ass hard. His stomach muscles contracted at that image as he backed away out of the kitchen, watching Joe push his dick back into his pants, zip his semi-erection away and moved to pour another two glasses of scotch. He really could have done with a good fuck right now. The love-making they'd engaged in since he arrived had been great, but he wanted it rough and forceful. He wanted Joe to push him down on the tabletop and dominate him. 

“If it’s Bill fucking send him home!” Joe called with a chuckle as Jon walked down the hallway and towards the front door, adjusting his pants. 

The person behind it knocked again – louder this time and Jon called out a tired, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Usually he made a habit of looking through the peephole, but he was so caught up in thoughts of Joe spreading him open and tickling his prostate that he flipped the lock of the door and pulled it open. 

It wasn’t Bill. 

“Does Joe live here?” the stranger on the step asked him, and then Jon didn’t know what he was aware of first – the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen or the old man’s oddly familiar blue eyes scorching into him. 

When Jon turned back toward the kitchen door, Joe was stood at the other end of the hallway, his own blue eyes wide. Jon turned back to gage the man on the step. _Fuck – they were the spitting image of each other._  

“Dad,” Joe said, swallowing, his voice thick, as if the word was too big for his mouth. 

Jon could see the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes as the rest of his words got stuck in his throat. 


	29. Chapter 29

There were only a few instances in Jon’s life where he could claim he’d literally been at a loss for words and this was certainly one of them. Stood between Joe and his dad in the threshold of the front door, Jon’s heart was thumping wildly inside his ribcage. He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he _could_ say to try ease this situation and nothing he could do to reclaim those lost, happy moments they’d shared in the kitchen, just the two of them. They sure seemed a far way off now. 

Under pressure, Jon was never very good. He got nervous in these types of situations and his thoughts got tangled together until he couldn’t make sense of them anymore. It was the reason he’d always lost arguments with Patrick. Jon was a lover, not a fighter and he preferred life when it was running smoothly and wasn’t throwing him curveballs like _this –_ Joe’s dad turning up out of the blue on the doorstep that afternoon. 

When Joe had told him stories of his dad, Jon had sat there and silently brewed, swearing to himself that if he ever had the misfortune to meet the man, he’d give him a piece of his mind. Stood in front of him though, Joe wide-eyed and fumbling behind him, it seemed like a much bigger task than he’d first thought. He stood there, gripping the door handle, looking between the two men like an umpire at a tennis match. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” the man on the step asked. He was a little shorter than Joe, with a protruding beer belly and a red nose, which Jon couldn’t tell was from the cold or years of being a drunk. 

“What are you doing here?” Joe asked, shaking his head incredulously. His voice was rough. Jon had never heard it like that before. Joe had to clear his throat. His brow was furrowed, his eyebrows knotted. To all intents and purposes, he looked like he’d just seen an ugly ghost from way back. 

Joe’s father glanced up and down the street and then turned back towards the door with a heavy sigh. “It sure has been a while.” 

“Years,” Joe added flatly, pacing towards the door and stopping just behind Jon. “What are you doing here?” He asked the question again but his voice sounded tired this time – tired and pissed off, as if he were scolding a difficult teenager. Jon gazed at the man in front of him and already felt hatred building deep inside him. This was the man responsible for Joe’s shitty childhood. Jon despised him. 

Joe and his father looked eerily similar. They both had the same big, blue eyes – although Joe’s father’s were hidden behind a pair of thick-framed spectacles - the same nose, the same fucking mouth… They even had the same little mannerisms. Joe must have _hated_ the fact that they were so alike, because Jon can’t have been the first one to notice it. He had to look away and heaved out an uncomfortable sigh. He felt like his whole body was burning up – another sign that Jon was way out of his comfort zone and trying hard to keep his cool. 

He’d never felt so awkward in his life before – and he’d never wanted to reverse time more than he did right now. Only this morning, Joe had told him what his dad used to tell him as a kid – _no one’s ever going to love you –_ and the worse thing was, is that Joe had believed him until a couple of months ago. Jon’s heart wanted to break – he was torn between just throwing his hands up and shouting until it all went away and taking Joe upstairs to his bedroom and holding him tight until they both fell asleep. Either way he wanted Joe’s father gone, he wanted him to crawl back into whichever hole he’d come out of and never to return. 

When he’d woken up this morning, this had _not_ been on his agenda. He didn’t want Joe’s dad turning up and ruining everything. He asked himself, _why the hell does everything seem to be working against us_? They were two good people; they didn’t deserve this - Joe especially. Not five minutes ago he’d been sucking him off on the kitchen floor. Five minutes ago the only thing Jon was thinking about was the slow drag and burn of Joe’s cock inside him and now look – a sudden, harsh dose of reality, their brief spell of worry-free happiness pulled like a rug from underneath them. 

“Does this guy live here or what? A roommate?” his dad asked, taking an uninvited step up into Joe’s house and regarding Jon with one single, dirty look. Joe shifted around the door to block him and his father took a step back down onto the porch. Jon was starting to feel claustrophobic caught between the two men. 

“Jon’s my _partner_ ,” he said, as if he was explaining English to an idiot. Joe’s father looked him up and down with a displeased look and wrinkled his nose. So, not only was Joe’s dad an abusive alcoholic, he was also a homophobe. From behind him, he heard Joe sigh in defeat and move back into the hall, holding the door open for his dad to pass through. Joe had already turned away into the hallway, leaving Jon to close the door behind him. He gave a brief introduction. 

“This is David – my father, if you choose to use to word very liberally, and this is Jon, he’s my partner. Jon’s a teacher, out in Las Vegas.” 

Joe’s father held his hand out for Jon to shake. “Vegas, eh? Are you a gambling man?” 

The peacekeeper inside Jon felt it should have taken the hand in front of him and politely shaken it in greeting, bullshitted with David Trohman about casinos and Black Jack and the Las Vegas Strip but the stories Joe had told him rendered him unable to do so; even for politeness sake. The way Joe had looked in the car on their way to Salt Lake City – hell, the way he’d looked only yesterday, sat at his mom’s dining room table at dinner - kept his hand resolutely by his side as he turned away into the hall and snubbed the older man. He took a stand next to Joe. _Mutual support_ , he thought. _Safety in numbers._  

After a moment, Joe’s dad dropped his hand back to his side and walked forward into the hallway, taking a look around. Jon could feel it - the tension between the two men was strained and uncomfortable. The way that Joe was stood in front of him with his shoulders tense and his arms folded across his chest hadn’t escaped Jon’s attention either. Jon regarded Joe’s father with the same attention he would a wild, untrained animal. He didn’t want to take his eyes off him. 

“Nice place,” he commented and then he sighed and trained his blue eyes back on Joe’s. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”   

There was a silence that dragged on too long for Jon’s liking. “What are you fucking doing here?” Joe sighed eventually, leaning up against the bannister. “We’re busy, so whatever the hell you want, spit it out, because we have things to do.” 

“Your mom’s dead, Joe.” 

That was it – Joe's father didn't even miss a beat, just a quick, hard blow right to the heart, delivered by the man with no tact or consideration. The news shocked even Jon. He looked immediately up at Joe, to read his expression. His face faltered for only a second before returning stony. 

“Is she really, or is this some stupid fucking head game you’re playing with me again?” 

 _Again?_ Maybe Joe had to deal with this shit more often than Jon had ever realized. 

“Didn’t _think_ you’d believe me. Here,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “See for yourself.” Joe’s father pulled out a crisp, white envelope and held it out in front of him. Joe paused for a moment before pushing himself away from the bannister and taking it from his father’s hand. Jon watched tentatively. When Joe opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of folded blue and red paper, Jon could see his hands shaking as his eyes scanned over it. 

The hallway was silent for a minute, until Joe cleared his throat and looked up at his father with knotted brows. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing down at the document. “ _Date of death April 24 th_?” He looked at his father, expectantly. Jon bit the inside of his lip. April 24th was a Wednesday and he only knew that because it was the same Wednesday Patrick decided to end their relationship and leave him for Pete Wentz. “She died back in _April_?” 

Joe’s father nodded his head slowly and Jon watched as Joe’s jaw tightened and he pushed the piece of paper against his dad’s chest. “She died back in April and you’re only _just_ telling me? It’s the end of fucking November.” Each word was spat out from between his lips. His father made no move to take back his dead wife’s death certificate and when Joe pulled his hand back it fluttered to the floor. 

“Well, things ended badly between us last time we ran into each other.” 

“Because you were drunk and you pushed your way in here demanding money for your medical bills and got pissed when I refused to help you out. That was over five years ago.” Joe’s hand came up to his hair and pushed his curls back from his face in frustration. “Can you believe this shit?” he asked Jon, one short pop of laughter escaping his lips. Jon stood awkwardly against the wall, unable to do anything more than watch on silently. “When did you find out about this?” 

His dad hummed in consideration of Joe’s question. “About a week after she died. Beginning of May sometime. Did you see the cause of death on there?” he asked, bending over to pick up the death certificate off the floor. Jon had the sudden urge to kick his foot into the man’s ass, knock him headfirst into Joe’s hardwood floor. 

Joe shook his head, “I don’t care. I think you should leave.” 

“Hepatitis,” his dad informed them, as if it was some kind of juicy gossip. He folded the paper back into its envelope and tucked it back inside his jacket pocket, patting it down. “She was sharing needles.” 

“Well, that’s not really surprising, seeing as mom was a meth addict for twenty-odd years.” 

Joe’s dad _laughed._ “I was listed as her next of kin. The funeral was in Idaho. It was a disappointing turn out to say the least.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Joe asked. 

“Didn’t think you’d’ve wanted to go all the way to Idaho,” his father replied, chuckling. He moved to undo the zip on his jacket and pulled one arm free with a huff. “It’s warm in here.” 

“Put your goddamn coat back on, I didn’t invite you to stay,” Joe spat and much to Jon's surprise, David Trohman slipped his arm back into his coat and stood there, looking out of place in Joe’s narrow hallway. “So, mom died _months_ ago and you took it upon yourself not to tell me?” he asked. 

“As I said, I didn’t think you’d have shown up at her funeral anyway.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have, but I’d have liked the option not to turn up - but then you always _did_ like to speak for me. I’m not a little kid anymore; you can’t threaten to beat me up if I don’t tell people what they want to hear about you, about what a lousy fucking father you always were.” 

“You always had a vivid imagination as a child, Joe,” his father smiled. 

Joe shook his head and looked away. “Was there anything else you wanted or was it just a quick drop-by to inform me that mom died seven goddamn months ago?” 

“I’m sick,” he said. “Cirrhosis of the liver. Keep trying to get on the transplant list, but can’t seem to stay sober long enough.” 

Joe hummed and then seemed to take great interest in the grain of his hardwood flooring, rubbing the toe of his boot along the edge of the carpet runner. “So that’s your grand plan, get on the transplant list and then drink away a new liver?” He paused and Jon noticed his father flush red. “You don’t deserve it. Do us _all_ a favor, yourself included… Just carry on drinking,” he said, with a blank face. 

David Trohman ignored his son’s jibe. “There’s drugs you can take to slow the process, alternative medicines too – all that hippie mumbo-jumbo, but these things are expensive. Remember all those fieldtrips I paid for when you were a kid, Joe? It was hard raising a son on a factory workers' wage. Maybe it’s time for you to help _me_ out now?”  

“Yeah, remember that time you gave be a black eye and broke my ribs and I skipped school for a week so no one would know? Remember how I lied to my teachers whenever they called you in to talk to them? I think I’ve helped you out more than you deserve already. You can’t just turn up here, after years, and expect me to give you money to prolong the pathetic life you lead. If you’ve said what you have to say, I think you should leave.” 

Jon baulked at the half-smile that pricked the older man’s lips. It was the smile of someone who knew he was already winning an argument, a smile that claimed victory, the smile of a man who thought he had the upper hand. 

“So, are you dating a mute? Cat got your tongue, boy? He’s not said a word since I arrived,” Joe’s father turned towards him and Jon furrowed his brow. _What a fucking asshole,_ Jon thought, _talking about me like I’m not even here._ It was as if every word out of David’s mouth, every movement he made was calculated to cause as much hurt and pain and discomfort as possible. Jon’s fist twitched at his side. He’d not been in a fight in _years._ As an adult he swore he’d only fight to protect the people he loved, but swinging his fist into a dying alcoholic’s face seemed like a bad idea, regardless of the situation at hand. He had the advantage of love and loyality on his side - one punch could probably knock that man out cold. 

“You leave Jon out of this. I’ll ask you again; was there anything else you wanted or are you quite done?” 

“I thought time healed all wounds,” Joe’s dad splayed his hands in front of him and gave a hapless shrug. At that, Jon had to physically remind himself not to raise his fist and smash it full force into the man’s mouth. “Don’t you think it’s high time to bury the hatchet, son? It was a stressful job, raising you alone – you can’t blame me for enjoying a few drinks every now and then.” 

“You’re right – but a few drinks every now and then doesn’t cause people to beat up their kids every night for years – I used to pray that you’d already be drinking by the time I left for school, because you’d always been too drunk to fight if that was the case. It was when you’d tried real hard to remain sober that I had to worry.” He let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve already blown your chances with me. You were evidently a lousy husband, but you had an opportunity to redeem yourself after mom left. You could have chosen to be a good dad, but you didn’t. You chose to be an alcoholic – and I have zero sympathy for you. So please,” he said, but his voice cracked. “Please - just get the fuck out.”   

Joe was losing control, Jon could tell; he could see him cracking under the weight of the situation, his outer façade waning. His father made no attempt to move from his spot between them and just stood there, silent and threatening, like a tiger ready to attack.  

“I think Joe asked you to leave,” Jon said – and he was thankful that his voice didn’t betray him like Joe’s had. 

Joe’s dad turned to him in surprise. “So he _does_ have a voice,” he taunted, rolling back on his heels. “Did it make you feel good, snubbing me like that earlier?” 

“No, but I’m not going to stand back and pretend like I don’t know what type of person you are.” 

“Oh, and what type of person would that be?” 

Jon paused. He _was_ going to go there. He was just an old man dying of liver failure. “A pretty shitty one would be my first guess,” he bit, locking his eyes with the man in front of him. No retreat now, he told himself, refusing to look away first. 

David Trohman had the attitude of a man who probably used to be pretty tough, back in the day. He looked like the kind of man to get into bar brawls for touching up another man’s wife or getting mouthy with the bar staff, but now he was just an empty shell of a human being, trying hard to get a reaction from a son he’d never cared about. He was too weak with old age now to fight with his fists, but he sure as hell was giving as good as he got with that cutting tongue. 

“Think you’re big, do you; talking smack like that? Did Joe tell you that he pissed the bed until he was ten years old?” 

“Joe at his _worst_ is a better man than you could ever _hope_ to be,” Jon replied quickly. “I love him. So if you think you can come around here and fuck with him, you’re going to have to get past me first and I swear to god, you won’t even make it through the front door next time.” 

The man stepped up towards him, but Jon stayed grounded. “ _Your_ house is it?” he challenged, looking around the hallway. 

“It’s _our_ house, so yeah – I think you should leave,” Joe said, moving between them. He sounded _wrecked –_ and when Jon looked up at him, his eyes were watering, brimming with tears that Joe tried hard to blink away. 

“Always knew you were a faggot, Joe – even when you were a little kid. D’you know how that feels; a man like _me_ , raising a son like _you_?” 

“You’re pushing your fucking luck,” Jon said, losing his cool for the first time. His voice was a little louder, the frustration crisp on it. “A son like him? You should be _proud_. Leave; or else I’ll call the cops.” 

Joe’s dad opened his mouth in faux-shock, something that was challenging Jon to react, but it soon turned into a self-satisfied smile. Jon wondered how the hell this man managed to sleep at night. He wondered how he’d made it this far in life without pissing off the wrong people – maybe because he only picked on those weaker than him; like Joe when he was a kid, perhaps like his wife when they were married, his wife who’d packed up all her belongings over twenty-five years ago and disappeared without a word. 

“You two lead a disgusting lifestyle if you ask me, you-” 

“No one did. So why don’t you get fucked?” Fight or flight – he’d always heard that phrase, but he’d never really lived it until right at that moment. He’d chosen the former response, stepping up against Joe’s father’s toes and leaning his face forward. He was risking a smack in the mouth, he knew that, but he didn’t care – not when it came to Joe. He could feel his heart thumping hard inside his chest. His face was burning; anger or nerves or fear, Jon couldn’t tell.   

“You wanna say that again?” the man challenged, squaring his jaw. 

Jon would stand there all day and defend the man he loved, so he pushed forward a little more and dropped his voice to a whisper, slowing his words down. “I _said_ , why don’t you get _fucked_?” 

He drew back and Jon watched the same half-grin as before pull at David’s lips. Jon felt his stomach twist, but he was steeling himself against every outside force this man was throwing his way. Joe was the most important person in the world to him, so when it came to crunch time, he was going to go down fighting. He didn’t back down and he held contact with those familiar blue eyes glaring at him. It seemed like a long moment before the man looked away and over Jon’s shoulder at Joe. 

“You need this guy to stand up for you, do you?” he asked, jerking his thumb in Jon’s direction. 

“You know, I used to be so scared of you,” Joe admitted. “Not anymore. I realized it doesn’t take much of a man to beat up a kid." 

“I was just disciplining you, son. Tryin’ to make you into a man.” 

“Is that your excuse? Keep telling yourself that; you’re the only one who believes it. I’m _happy_ , despite everything that happened when I was a kid, I’m fucking _happy_ – and I’ve done well for myself. I’ve got friends and a nice house and a good job, where I help _kids,_ who are just like I was - and most of all, I’ve got someone who loves me; which is more than you’ve ever had, so take your fucking sad, lonely ass and get the fuck out of my house, because I don’t need you. I’ve _never_ needed you - I’d’ve been better off alone.” 

“When I walked through that door you had the same look on your face as you always did when you were a kid, Joe. _Fear_. So don’t-” 

Jon didn’t let him finish. He pushed his palms roughly into Joe’s father’s shoulders, closing the distance between them before he could catch his footing. “What are you, fucking deaf or stupid? He _said_ get the fuck out. You need me to show you where the door is or something?” he asked, the words harsh and angry as he backed the man down the hallway toward the front door.

“Are you going to hit me?” he asked, and it was almost taunting. It was almost _come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough._ It was almost tempting. “What kind of person would beat up a sick, old man?” 

“Probably the same kind of person who’d beat up his son. Not me - and dude, don’t flatter yourself. I’m not fucking scared of you.” 

“Well, you _should_ be,” he spat, leaning into Jon’s space. Jon could smell the cheap whiskey on his breath. “Here’s a tip for future reference; watch your back, faggot.” 

It had happened pretty quickly, before Jon saw it coming, anyway – the hard shove to the side from Joe, propelling his father backwards and into the wall. He caught himself and managed to catch his footing, but Joe was on him, hands fisting in the collar of his father’s coat, pushing him back against the wall and closing the distance between their faces. 

“You _dare_ threaten my boyfriend again and I swear to fucking god, you _will_ pay. What don’t you understand about _I’m fucking happy_?” he shouted. “For the first time in my _life_ I’m happy and you think you can show up here after five years and fuck it up for me? You’ve got another thing coming. You are _not_ welcome here and as far as I’m concerned, _both_ my parents have been dead to me for a _long_ time.” Joe’s father struggled, Joe was holding him up by his jacket, his toes barely scuffing the floor – he tried to kick his legs out underneath him to catch Joe’s knees, but Joe was strong, Jon could see the muscles flexing in his arms, the adrenaline pumping through him. “I _hate_ you. I used to fall asleep at night and I used to pray that you’d be dead when I woke up in the morning – I hated you _that_ much. I used to dream about killing you, about pushing a gun to your fucking head and blowing your brains out or putting rat poison in your whisky or setting the house on fire when you were passed out drunk. Trust me, I thought about all the options, over and over again.” 

“You’re a lot like me,” his father spluttered with a sick smile. “Always did have a temper.” His own hands, red and cracked from working too hard or living too hard or fighting too hard, wrapped around this son’s wrists as Joe knocked him back against the wall, holding him there. 

“I am _nothing_ like you.” Joe punctuated his words by pushing the old man hard against the wall before letting him go. “You fucked up – and I am _not_ the same man you are. You’re alone; you’re a sad, lonely old man. _You’re_ the one nobody loves. I always thought mom left because of _me_ , but she left because she hated _you –_ and I don’t fucking blame her. Mom was selfish, sure she was, but at least she removed herself from my life. I just wish you’d done the same. You’re going to die and no one’s going to care – and for fifty-something years on this earth, that’s a pretty sad state of affairs.” 

Joe’s father adjusted his jacket and straightened out his collar. He smoothed down the thin grey curls on top of his head and then looked down at the ground. Jon could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and then wet his lips. The hallway fell silent, waiting for the next batch of angry words. Jon was on edge, watching intently, his fists clenched tight by his side, ready to fight. 

Joe’s jaw was quivering, his mouth a thin, tight line. “Please,” he said. He was begging, pleading. One tear spilt over and Jon could hardly watch anymore. “Please just leave us alone.” 

When Joe’s father looked back up at him his eyes were bright blue and wet. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice catching in his throat, before a strangled cry escaped his mouth. Jon hadn’t expected _that._ Joe’s dad rubbed his hand over his face, wiping his tears across his red cheeks. “For everything – I am _so_ sorry,” the old man’s voice cracked on his apology. Joe stepped back and Jon saw his shoulders slump, saw the fight drain immediately from his body. Jon didn’t think he’d ever felt a greater emotion overtake him. He watched as David Trohman stood up from the wall and reached for the doorknob to pull open the front door. They both stood there, too dumbfounded to even stop him and then he was gone - as quickly as he’d cannonballed into their afternoon, he was _gone._  

Jon had never seen a fully-grown man cry before. It was kind of like watching a puppy get kicked or seeing his dad lose a fight, but after the door slammed closed and the hallway rang with silence, Joe turned towards him and his face crumpled. Jon closed the distance between them and Joe held him so tight that he pulled Jon down to the floor with him when his knees gave way beneath him. 


	30. Chapter 30

Jon always found the aftermath of tragedy an odd thing. He remembered a few years ago, after his grandmother died, trying to carry on with life as if everything were normal, trying to have forced conversations about things that didn’t matter anymore - things like the weather or the baseball game, because life around him carried on and things were still pretty much the same - apart from that huge, black cloud of grief hanging over his mom’s house as they cooked dinner together the night after his grandmother passed away. 

He remembered watching the evening news with muted disinterest, because death was not something he’d had much experience with and it had felt like a slightly odd contrast - his own pain at losing a family member, offset by the continuing tragedy that was the nightly news. There were worse things in life than one person dying, but it never really seemed that way in the dark weeks following. 

Life goes on and the pain of death is transient – it gets easier with time, but Jon’s decision was already made as he sat there, legs splayed out in front of him, Joe’s head in his lap, heavy and warm and grounding as he smoothed his hair back off his face – he was staying in Chicago; because there was no way in hell he was leaving to get on that plane back to Vegas after todays revelations. 

After the shock of the afternoon gave way to the reality of a cold, uncomfortable hallway floor, Jon shifted to stand, pulling Joe up and into his chest and the evening pressed on uncomfortably as they vacated to the living room and watched _Manhattan_ on low, the lines barely audible as they sat together on the couch.   

Jon had this overwhelming need to look after Joe, and he wasn’t sure how much tender loving care Joe needed but he wanted to wrap him up in bed and cuss out his dad or offer a understanding shoulder to cry on or, as had been the case since David Trohman disappeared out of the front door, just sit in relative silence and lend an open ear if Joe decided he wanted to talk. 

Jon had set up the coffee table with everything he thought they’d need – painkillers for Joe, who’d complained about a headache not long after they left the hallway. _Stress headache,_ Jon had claimed, tipping three pills out onto his palm and handing them to him. He’d suffered with plenty of those when he and Patrick broke up. There were bottles of water and cigarettes, the half empty bottle of scotch they’d been drinking before Joe’s father had disrupted their afternoon and Jon had rolled a couple of joints that he and Joe passed between them as they sat there, both barely watching the movie on the TV. 

Jon thought about a lot of things – the movie he’d seen before, numerous times in fact, but he’d never experienced a feeling quite like the one that was currently bothering him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it and it was strange because the majority of the time, his feelings were pretty black and white. At least they had been before he’d got together with Joe. In the months following his break-up from Patrick, his emotions had been all over the place. He couldn’t imagine what Joe must’ve been going through and he glanced over at him cautiously during a break in dialogue. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, when Joe caught him looking. 

“I’m fine.” But Joe didn’t _look_ fine and there were a lot of questions that Jon wanted to ask, all the _how’s_ and _why’s_ and _when’s_ , but he kept his mouth closed and averted his eyes back to the TV screen. 

He was reminded about how he’d struggled to come to terms with the death of his grandmother; an old women, who’d led a full and happy life – someone who’d had her family sat around her when she passed. He remembered how weird the next few days had been – he and his mom; just two humans having to deal with something so much bigger and sadder than anything else either of them had experienced before - something as all encompassing as _death._ They had not been prepared; despite the fact that she’d been sick for a long while, nothing had really equipped them for that ugly finality. 

And now Joe was facing the same thing, although his situation was complicated – his mother had left when he was still too young to understand, he’d hardly seen her since he was four years old; she’d died back in _April_.

 _Small world,_ Jon thought - Joe’s mom had died the same day as his relationship with Patrick. That had to be some kind of sick poetic justice. He wished there was something he could say to make things easier, but he knew there wasn’t. He just wanted to reverse time, go back to how it had been before Joe’s dad knocked the door, but that still wouldn’t cancel out his mother’s death. 

The long, uncomfortable minutes following Joe’s father’s exit had been horrendous. Jon had never seen a man cry before – and there in Joe’s hallway that afternoon, he’d witnessed _two._ Men were meant be to the less emotional sex, he wasn’t used to tears. Perhaps if he was straight he’d have more experience, but men were meant to be bastions of stability, rocks in the storm, unflappably cool no matter the circumstances. 

Jon had cried when Patrick broke up with him, but never in front of anyone else – it was heart wrenching to see that outpouring of emotion from the man he loved but oddly comforting to know that he was the one that Joe trusted enough to let him see him that way; unguarded and vulnerable.

He’d been quick to close the distance between them and he’d tried to keep Joe upright when his legs gave way, but he just turned to dead weight, his knees knocking hard against the hardwood floor as he pulled Jon down with him, his hands fisted in the back of Jon’s t-shirt, his eyes wet at his shoulder… Joe had _wailed,_ a true outpouring of grief that had sent Jon tailspinning into a panic. He didn’t know how to deal with emotions of these extremes when they were his own, much less when they were someone else’s. 

He’d wrapped his arms tight around Joe’s shoulders and pulled him down into his chest, hushing and soothing and promising him that everything would be okay – and it took a couple of minutes for it to work, but after a while, Joe’s sobs turned into shuddery, heaving gasps – as if he was fighting for air and couldn’t quite take in a deep enough breath. Jon didn’t know which one was harder to listen to, but he kept holding him and he kept pressing kisses down on top of Joe’s head, smoothing his hair out of his face, until the heaving gasps trailed off into quiet snivels – and by that time Jon’s shirt was damp with cold, wet tears and his ass was numb on the hallway floor, Joe sedate in his arms. 

They’d not said anything to each other until they moved to the sitting room and Jon’s heart thumped hard inside his chest as he cursed his own incapability. Joe was always fantastic at offering support. He, on the other hand, never had the right words and Joe always did – now their roles had been reversed and Jon didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job at consoling the man he loved. Those tears had kind of caught him off-guard. 

Joe passed back the joint and when Jon took it, he leant forward to stub it out. Joe nestled up against his shoulder and Jon turned his lips against his forehead and pecked a kiss as the final scene of the movie played across the TV. 

Jon had only half been paying attention to it, the rest of his mind was buzzing with the discomfort of meeting Joe’s father, of that tearful apology he’d uttered right before he left them in stunned silence. Jon wondered what the apology meant to Joe – to him it meant sweet fuck all, but maybe it meant something to Joe. It was such a small word, so easy to throw away, but paired with tears from a middle-aged alcoholic, maybe it held more ground. He’d wait for Joe to explain it to him; if and when that moment came. 

The final scene of the movie rolled across the screen – the scene where Woody Allen’s character finds out his young girlfriend is going away to college and they won’t see each other for six months. He begs her to stay. She says, _not everybody gets corrupted._ She asks him to have faith and then it cuts to a shot of the Manhattan skyline, the music swelling into the credits – white text on a black screen, darkening the room. 

“D’you need anything? Are you okay,” he asked again softly, his lips lingering against Joe’s forehead, pushing a few more slow kisses against his temple. 

“Not really,” Joe replied, sinking his head back down into Jon’s lap. He reached for the remote control and turned the TV off – the room was now dark and quiet and Jon brushed his fingers through Joe’s hair and let the silence grow. “I didn’t think it’d hurt like this. I’ve not seen my mom in _years_ – I didn’t think it’d bother me, finding out she’s dead, but it does – and my _dad_ …” he sighed and then Jon felt his shoulders heave up as he struggled to contain his emotions. 

“It’s okay,” he consoled, one hand in his hair, the other rubbing down Joe’s arm. Joe took a moment, he sniffed hard a few times and Jon didn’t know if he was crying again or not so he stayed quiet. “You’re okay. I’m here,” he said. 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told my dad to _get fucked_ before.” Joe smiled up at him sadly and Jon could see his eyes glassy in the darkness of the living room. It was a bittersweet moment; Jon let out a quiet laugh and twisted one loose curl of Joe’s hair around his finger. 

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let him talk to you like that. Fuck, Joe, I was so mad, I almost fucking hit him,” he admitted, already feeling the anger starting to rise back up his chest. It worried him when he thought back to it; how close he’d come to knocking his fist square into that man’s jaw. He honestly didn’t know where he’d dredged up that self-control from, because if there was one person in this world who he wanted to see suffer, way more than he’d ever wished ill on either Patrick or Pete put together, it was David Trohman. 

“You know,” Joe started, his hand coming up to brush Jon’s jaw, “it means a lot; what you did, standing up for me in front of my father like that. No one’s ever done _that_ before, either. I was always left to fight my own battles.” 

Jon turned his head to kiss Joe’s fingers. “No one ever got involved?” There must have been _someone_ who’d thought about intervening when Joe was a kid - neighbors or teachers or family friends? Joe was forever skipping school, covered in bruises; it must have raised at least one or two suspicious eyebrows. 

“My school tried; once or twice. I lied; I covered his ass, time and time again. I skipped school because he beat me, because I was embarrassed to be seen with black eyes and a busted lip – and he beat me because I kept skipping school; it was an endless, vicious circle. I never got any rest. I don’t think I ever really slept properly until I moved out. I’d make myself sick with nerves. I’d stay up all night, listening to him shouting at the TV downstairs and I used to wake up at every tiny sound. He fucking terrified me as a kid, Jon. The last time he hit me was on my thirteenth birthday and that was the worst beating I ever got. I think even _he_ realized he’d taken it too far that time, because he never laid another finger on me after that.” 

Jon took a deep breath and let out a shuddery exhale. It almost fucking killed him to hear Joe talk like that. Jon couldn’t connect the two lives together – that of Joe when he was a kid, living under the reign of an abusive father, terrified of slipping up and getting hit and of Joe as Jon knew him now; happy-go-lucky, chilled-out Joe Trohman, who carried on through life without a care in the world. He’d always wondered where they connected, but now Jon could see it – right here, lying in his lap. 

On his thirteenth birthday, Joe’s father had broken his nose and dislocated his jaw after several glasses of Jim Beam. He’d pushed him down the stairs and the fall had broken three of his ribs and knocked Joe unconscious. 

Jon had come from a loving family; even if his own father was sometimes cold and acted disappointed that Jon was never going to settle down with a wife and have a couple of kids, he’d never doubted his love for him. He couldn’t understand why some parents chose to take all their shortcomings out on their kids – you had to be a pretty fucked up and miserable person to do that and Joe had suffered in silence for _years._ His words were hard to swallow – Jon wished he _had_ taken a swipe at that pathetic old motherfucker. He’d have been lucky to leave the house with a broken jaw. 

At nine David Trohman broke his son’s arm. It was summer, he’d been drinking beer all day in the sun, Joe remembered. He’d been up in his room, trying to disappear when his father stormed in, pushed him down onto the floor with his knee between Joe’s shoulder blades and pulled his arm back until it snapped at the elbow. Joe said he remembered screaming and the white-hot pain and nothing much else – waking up in the ER, a story already spun to the doctors, his arm in a cast for the next six weeks. 

He was ten when his school first tried to get involved. He was disruptive in class, always acting out against his teachers and boisterous with the other kids. He used to get into fights, because that was the only way he knew how to deal with his anger and when the school principal threatened to call his father, he’d burst into tears in her office and begged them not to call him in. 

Of course, they’d wanted to know why. They kept asking him if things were okay at home, they asked him where his mom was and if she was involved in his life. They asked him if his dad liked to drink and if he’d ever hit him and looking back, Joe claimed, he’d wished he’d told his school the truth – he had the evidence all over his body; the trip to the hospital the year prior - but he’d lied because he was worried about the consequences if he told the truth. His father had once sworn that he’d kill him if anything got out about what went on behind closed doors and he was still young and naïve enough to not doubt his father’s threat, so he’d sat in his principal’s office and sworn blind that his dad had never hit him. He’d crossed his heart until even he started to believe his lies - and he hadn’t really known why he’d done it, why he’d covered for his dad like that. 

Joe told him that three weeks after his school had questioned him, his father had given him a black eye for swearing in front of a guest; a pal from his father’s work, who’d just sat there, slack-jawed as his father punched him twice, in the middle of the living room, without even spilling a single drop of his whiskey. 

As a kid, Joe had been let down by almost every adult around him – which is why he’d got into the profession he had; trying to help troubled teenagers overcome their dysfunctional family backgrounds. Joe never had that kind of support and he liked to think he was offering some kind of bright outlook to kids who were going through the same kind of hell. He liked to think he was making a difference. 

Jon thought briefly about Cooper, about how jealous he’d once been of that kid, how he’d once regarded him as a threat to their relationship. Jon didn’t know what kind of support mutual jerk-off sessions gave to the abused teenagers of Chicago, but he guessed Joe was only human and everybody makes mistakes he told himself, as he rubbed Joe’s shoulder. He certainly wasn't going to let Cooper bother him now. 

After Joe’s thirteenth birthday, his father didn’t try to hit him again, but it didn’t stop the abuse from continuing mentally and emotionally. David Trohman used to tell Joe that he’d wished he’d never been born, that he regretted not forcing his deadbeat mother to the hospital for an abortion when they found out she was pregnant and Joe grew up lopsided and angry because of it, but determined not to let his father fuck up his life. 

He’d worked hard at school, slipping under his drunken father’s radar most nights until he was taller and stronger than his dad ever had been and then all his hatred morphed into apathetic resentment. His father was just a thorn in his side, his malicious jibes became quickly outdated and for a few years, they lived together like strangers - they didn’t talk, they hardly saw each other. When Joe was seventeen, his father caught him sucking off an older boy from school in his bedroom and had lunged towards the bed as if he was going to hit him. Joe had lost his cool with his father for the first time. 

He broke his father’s jaw and moved out of the family home the following week. 

“He never said he was sorry – not for anything. He remained resolutely unapologetic; he acted like I deserved it all, like it was all my fault - and as a kid, I believed him for years, but as a teenager I just thought _fuck it._ I thought; _happiness is the best kind of vengeance._ Nothing would piss him off more than seeing me live a fucking great life - and I’ve got that now, with you. I fucking _love_ you, Jon. So fucking much.” Joe sat up as his voice gave way to grief, wrapping his arms around Jon’s shoulders on the couch. “If this came to an end,” he sniffed, face pressed down hard into the nape of Jon’s neck, “I don’t know what the hell I’d do.” 

“It’s not going to,” Jon promised. “We’re going to be okay.” 

They climbed the stairs a little while later, after they’d smoked the second joint and it didn’t take long for Joe to fall asleep, exhausted from the stress of the afternoon. He hadn’t talked about how he felt about his mom – or about the fact that his father had kept her death a secret for so long, but when Jon heard Joe’s breathing deepen and felt his body relax against his he waited a full fifteen minutes before slowly pulling out of his loose embrace and leaving the bedroom. He was way too wound up to sleep; his head was thumping, his chest aching with too much pent-up emotion. 

It was 10PM in Chicago – only eight in Las Vegas. He pulled his cellphone from his pants pocket and sat on the stairs with a glass of scotch and a cigarette, scrolling through his phonebook. 

“Jon. Hey!” Spencer’s cheerful voice rang out after four rings. “What’s up? How was your Thanksgiving?” 

“Good,” Jon replied truthfully. Thanksgiving had been great – if was such a shame it had been tainted by such bad news on Black Friday. “How about yours?” He shouldn’t have asked the question – Spencer was a notorious talker and Jon wanted to cut to the chase; _I’m not coming back to school on Monday,_ he should have said. _Can you try and organize cover for my classes, dude? Thanks -_ and that should have been it; end the call, climb back into bed with Joe.

He hadn’t called Ryan because Ryan would probably try and talk him out of it. Ryan’s crush was kind of ridiculous. Jon didn’t want to give him any ammunition. 

“Yeah. Our day was awesome,” Spencer replied, surprisingly brief for a man who was known to talk all day about the cost of wedding photographers. “I’m sat here now with Haley. Sarah sent the day with Brendon and his parents and your friend Gabe arrived this morning.” 

If he’d have been talking to anyone other that Spencer Smith, he’d have laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Jon pressed his cellphone to his ear and he swore he could hear Gabe Saporta in the background, his voice about the same volume as Ryan’s distinct whine of Spencer’s name. 

“I’m sorry, _what_?” 

“Oh. They’re looking at me now like I shouldn’t have said that. _I thought he knew_ ,” he heard Spencer telling the room. 

“Gabe’s there? Can I talk to him for five minutes?” he asked, his mind a spin of _what the_ actual _fuck?_

“Jonathan,” was Gabe’s sharp greeting after a moment of hushed discussion on the other end of the line. 

“Gabriel,” Jon mirrored, his mouth tight, the news that Gabe had flown all the way out to Vegas from New York settling uneasily in the pit of his stomach. “Dude,” he sighed. “The _fuck_ is going on?” 

Gabe huffed – he was always so arrogant and cocky. Gabe always had something to say for himself; right now though, he seemed to be at a slight loss for words. Gabe had been well and truly busted. He wondered when he’d have found out if he hadn’t have called Spencer in his time of need. Maybe Ryan was planning on keeping his little rendezvous with his friend a secret. If Joe’s dad hadn’t have called, he’d probably have gotten away with it. 

“Well, I’ll hold my hands up - I guess you caught me. Ryan invited me, a few weeks ago. It was an opportunity too good to miss, bro.” 

“Does William know?” he asked. It was just one thing after another today – when the _hell_ did his life get so complicated? 

“Why does Bill need to know? He’s been hooking up with Travis behind my back for _months_.” 

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Jon breathed to himself, letting the situation set in. _Secrets and lies_ – it seemed like all his friends were fucking selfish assholes. 

“You’re not _jealous,_ are you?” Gabe asked. “Your boy Ryan and I... We’re going to fuck tonight, if I can play my cards right, which shouldn’t be hard," he informed him and Jon could just imagine his cock-sure grin. "Ryan said he had the best fuck of his life a few months back. I’m gonna try and top whoever that was, show him what's up with Gabey Baby." Jon cringed. "I mean, there’s nothing going on between the two of you, is there?” 

“Dude,” Jon sighed tiredly. “No. Knock yourself out.” 

“Are you bringing Joe to Spencer’s wedding? Ryan’s the best man, he’s invited me along - as his date. I’ll come back out if this weekend goes well. I mean, if you and Joe are gonna be there, we could get pretty fucking crazy, huh? Ryan said he knows this guy who can get some bomb-ass coke. Vegas on cocaine, dude, I mean, what the _fuck_? Would that be awesome or what?” 

Jon had no time for Gabe's ridiculous shit. “I’m staying in Chicago. Joe’s mom died. I’m not flying back on Sunday. You can do whatever the hell you want. I need to speak to Spencer to see if he can help cover some of my classes. Can you put him back on, please?” 

There was a pause. “Back up a fucking second, _please_. What? Joe’s _mom_ died? I didn’t think he talked to her. You’re staying out in fucking _Chicago_?” 

“I can’t exactly leave him here. He’s pretty cut up.” Jon’s eyes started to water, remembering Joe’s desperate face right after his dad left. He sniffed hard and wiped his face. “I hate Las Vegas, dude. I don’t know why the fuck I moved out there in the first place because I’m so fucking miserable and Joe and I argue about it all the time and today, this afternoon, his fucking dad turns up totally out of the blue and tells him that his mom died back in fucking April, dude – and I fucking _love_ him, so yeah, I’m staying out in _Fucking_ Chicago,” he finished, his voice wavering, dangerously close to tears. 

“Shit, bro. Fuck. I’m – I’m _sorry_. Look, I’ll get Spencer for you.” He paused, “it’s not what you think – between Ryan and I. I never screwed over Bill. The two of us, we’re better off apart. He’s always been a better match for Travis than he ever was for me; I’ve always known that and dude, I’m sorry about Joe’s mom, okay? Here’s Spencer. I’ll call you guys tomorrow,” he promised. Gabe sounded almost endearing until he added to his apology. "If I'm not balls deep in Ryan's sweet little ass."

“Okay, sure; whatever, dude – _oh_ , before you go,” he interjected, before Gabe handed the phone back over to Spencer. “Ryan’s last fuck? That was Joe and I, back in September, so good luck with that one.” 

 _Be heartless_ , he told himself, _everyone’s doing it_. 

When he cancelled the call after talking with Spencer, he tried not to let Gabe’s presence in Las Vegas bother him. It seemed that all his friends were doing an excellent job at being complete assholes. William had been screwing around with Travis behind Gabe’s back, Gabe had been flirting with Ryan for god knows how long behind William's back... Ryan had invited Gabe to Las Vegas without informing Jon and it was a lot to take in. He returned to the bedroom, feeling even more heavy-hearted than he had when he’d first made the call to Spencer. He thought it'd lighten the load somewhat, take a weight off his shoulders, but no such luck. 

Spencer had talked to him on the phone for a long half hour. Spencer couldn’t believe it – _Ryan’s gay too. No wonder you two got on so well,_ he’d said, kind of naïvely – as if being gay was the single, unbreakable bond that brought two friends together. Spencer was understanding though – just like Jon knew he would be. He was repeatedly apologetic about Joe’s dead mother. He promised Jon that between him and Brendon and Ryan, they’d have all of his classes covered for next week. 

“Are you still going to come to the wedding?” he asked, nervously, probably the one thing that had been on Spencer’s mind since Jon told him he wasn’t returning to work next week. "I mean, I hope it doesn't clash with the funeral."

"Yeah," Jon waved off Spencer's woes. "We'll be there." He was going to have to return to Nevada sooner or later; he had an apartment full of useless shit he needed to pack up. 

Jon climbed back up the stairs and lay down next to Joe; finally exhausted after a long day. Joe was sleeping, snoring softly, the comforter pulled up around his face and Jon eventually closed his eyes and felt his body relax on the mattress.  

 _What a fucking day,_ he thought as he gave into sleep.

 

* * *

 

Jon was woken up with a jolt, the memories of a bad nightmare dissipating as he blinked his eyes open and tried to hold back reality enough that he could pass back out again. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, but the bed was empty next to him – the door opened a crack and letting in light from the hallway. It took him a few more seconds to realize that the low, soft sobs he was hearing weren’t a figment of his imagination and he sat up in bed and listened in silence, wondering whether he should go and investigate or give Joe his privacy. 

It took him a few moments, but he couldn’t stand that sound – he pushed him himself up off the mattress and followed the light towards the cracked bathroom door. 

He waited outside and then knocked quietly. The crying quickly subsided. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, pushing the door open after a pause. 

Joe was sat on the edge of the bath, his head in his hands, looking like a completely broken man. 

“I’m sorry,” he gulped, wiping his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Hey…” Jon soothed him, kneeling down on the cold bathroom floor in front of Joe. “Don’t be silly. Come here.” Jon wound him into a hug and Joe sniveled against his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he trembled. “It’s going to be so damn hard when you leave this time, I can’t even-” 

“I’m going to stay,” Jon interjected, shivering. “I’ve already called Spencer back in Vegas, he's going to help get cover for my classes. I’m not going to leave, Joe.” 

“But – your job; please – don’t…" Joe stopped. "You’re going to _stay_?” he said, looking up at him - eyes wet and red, but his voice even. 

“I’m going to stay,” he nodded and Joe’s lips crashed desperately into his. 


	31. Chapter 31

Winter in Chicago always varied wildly, from mildly cold to downright brutal. This year, the season seemed to have taken a decided turn for the worst and after his summer in Las Vegas, Jon was suffering from sunshine withdrawal. 

There had been snow on the ground for the past few weeks – airplanes grounded out of O’Hare because of snowstorms and at one point Jon had called Spencer, worrying that they might not even be able to make it out for the wedding after all. Being able to curl up next to Joe every night though, made the miserable and bitterly cold December weather bearable. Jon had never been happier and delighted in the small things he’d grown to love about being around Joe. 

It had been surprisingly easy to fit into their new relationship and Jon enjoyed the normality that came with it – the small things; settling down on the couch together in the evening to watch a movie, ordering take-out and lazing around on the weekend. All the things that had made Jon restless with Patrick, seemed to make sense with Joe. He didn’t desire those heady, drug-fuelled Friday nights anymore. He was happy enough relaxing with Joe, with a couple of beers and a few joints. It sounded kind of cliché, but that was all he needed to get him high these days. 

Since Joe’s father had turned up on his doorstep at Thanksgiving, things had been tense for a good few days. The tears Joe shed on the bathroom floor after Jon told him he was staying in Chicago hadn’t been the last and a few days later, Jon had given up trying to hold his shit together too, because seeing Joe unhappy made him fucking miserable. 

He’d cried, lying with Joe on his bed one evening. Joe had said, “If I didn’t have you, I think I would have killed myself on Friday,” and Jon had furrowed his brow and cast Joe a worried sideward glance. That wasn’t the pillow talk he’d grow used to.

“Don’t say things like that,” he said, rolling over into Joe’s chest. “I’m going to be here. Always,” he added after a pause, because there was no doubt in Jon’s mind that that was the truth. “And I swear, if that fucking… _idiot_ ever comes by here again…” He didn’t articulate a threat and _idiot_ had not been his first choice of noun for David Trohman, but he tried to reign himself in, in front of Joe. 

“I tried to once, you know – kill myself. Only the once. I was young – fourteen. I tried to slit my wrists.” Joe’s voice was even and calm and his breathing was still slow. “My dad found out and told me I couldn’t even get _that_ right. I was so certain I wanted to die, but I couldn’t do it. I got the blood out, but it was the guts I was trying to put into it.” 

That was what made Jon cry – the only words he was able to utter falling from his lips; a quiet sigh of, “ _Fuck_ , Joe.” 

“You’re the first person I’ve ever been honest with in my life. I can’t ever imagine what I’d do if I lost you. Fuck, I mean, you being out in Vegas was bad enough. I’m so fucking glad I didn’t die before I met you.” Joe spoke his words on one long exhale, slipping down under the covers to face Jon. “I never told anyone else because I knew it’d change how everyone saw me – it’s hard trying to enjoy a few drinks when you’re the son on an alcoholic. The way people look at you and assume you have no self-control. I’ve taken so many drugs – but if people knew about my mom I wouldn’t just be down to party, I’d be a liability, at risk of turning into an addict. I never wanted anyone to know because I knew if they did I wouldn’t be able to move on – and so I just kept everything locked inside for so long and fucking Friday, man… It hurt _so_ much in _here_ ,” Joe thumped his fist to his chest and his eyes spilled out slow, sorry tears. “I worked so hard to build those walls up and my dad knocks on the door and they’re fucking _gone_ – instantaneously. Just like that.” 

“I’m going to be here, okay? You know that.” Jon held Joe’s face in his hands and pulled their lips together. “You’re stuck with me now, alright?” He let a smile break through his tears and kissed him – and Joe kissed back with his tongue, turning Jon’s comforting kiss into something slower, more desperate, until he was pushing him over onto his back. Joe slid his pajama pants down, just below his ass as Jon kicked his briefs off around his ankles and brought his knees into his chest, closing his eyes as Joe fucked two and then, before Jon was really ready for it, three fingers inside him, jerking his own cock with his other hand. 

The sex that night was desperate and rough – the first sex they’d had since Thanksgiving evening and it hadn’t lasted long. A quick, ten-minute fuck and they were both rolling over and falling asleep - Joe in Jon’s arms, as had become the pattern since David Trohman stormed into their lives. 

It was a week before Spencer’s wedding and Jon and Joe had not been particularly social since Thanksgiving. When Jon had told Joe about Gabe’s secret trip to Las Vegas, it had offered him a good laugh and had lightened the mood the morning following Black Friday, while they lay together and discussed the pros and cons of Gabe dating Ryan. 

“Pro,” Joe had smiled, “maybe Ryan will get over his little crush on you.” 

“Con – what if they get serious? What if Ryan moves out to Chicago?” He couldn’t imagine having to be around both Joe _and_ Ryan on a regular basis. His desire for the man had been nicely put to rest after that threesome and it wasn’t like he wanted to go and dig it up again – especially if he was to become Gabe’s latest squeeze. 

Joe had laughed, a full, dazzling smile that made Jon’s stomach flip. “Hold up a minute, Cupid. They’ve only met once and you’re already preparing for Ryan’s move out here.” 

“It’d be weird,” Jon answered quickly. “I don’t want to fuck him again.” 

That had pulled Joe’s lips into another smile. “You don’t have to. In fact, I'd prefer to keep you all to myself.” Joe had pulled Jon into his chest and kissed his neck. 

Gabe hadn’t called like he’d promised and Jon didn’t know whether that was because he actually _was_ balls deep in Ryan’s ass or because he was giving Jon the silent treatment after he’d spilled the beans about their threesome on his birthday, but he’d called around to Joe's place the following Monday afternoon, looking and talking like he’d had one hell of a weekend. 

“No offence, guys – I love you both, you're my bro's, but I _really_ didn’t need to know about a threesome with your cute best friend out in Vegas,” he had said, by way of greeting once he sat down in Joe’s living room, stinking of cigarettes and unwashed balls. “Ryan is a _slut,_ ” he said, ignoring the guilty smile that Jon exchanged with Joe from across the room. “Seriously. I thought William was bad.” He whistled, “Ryan is fucking desperate for the D, son,” Gabe laughed, slapping Jon hard on the back – and a split second later, all enthusiasm seemed to drain from his body. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He looked over at Joe. “I heard about your mom.” 

Joe dismissed him idly, waving off Gabe’s commiserations. “Dude,” he said, “don’t worry about that. I mean, I knew I’d get Jon to stay in Chicago one way or another – just part of my master plan,” he jested, winking over at him. He was trying to keep the topic of conversation light; nothing like reflecting on a terrible childhood and a dead, drug-addicted mother to dampen the mood. “Does Bill know about your little trip?” 

Gabe sighed and leant back on the couch, his arms thrown over the back cushions. “No – and I don’t think it’s integral that he needs to find out, either. Dude’s been screwing Travis behind my back for months – and now _I’m_ the bad guy for flying out to Las Vegas. I gave Bill such a long leash. We were essentially together, but we both slept around – sometimes together, sometimes not.” Jon and Joe exchanged a look as Gabe explained. “And I always said; _whatever happens, we tell each other_ – and it worked. For a while; but he’d been acting like a sneaky little shit for weeks and when I asked him about it, after we got back from your birthday, Jon, he just shrugged and told me that he and Travis had been hooking up since the summer, so…” he trailed off and looked toward Jon for mutual support – hoping that the other spurned man in the room had some pearls of wisdom to make him feel better. 

“Well,” Jon sighed, “I wish everybody would just stop deceiving each other. Our circle of friends is dwindling, first Patrick and Pete, now Bill and Travis…” 

“Patrick and Pete wasn’t much of a loss though,” Joe told them. “Fucking squares, the two of them. Also, lying sons of bitches.” 

“Nah," Gabe waved his hand in front of him. "Bill and Travis are good together. Fucking good luck to them, I say – and Ryan and I, who knows? He's certainly cute. He invited me to that wedding, so could be _something_ in the works. More hot sex at the very least, anyway, but _please –_ don’t ever remind me that you two, you know – double-teamed him. That news almost made my dick permanently shrivel up.” 

Jon laughed as he thought about it – Gabe and Ryan, hooking up like that in secret. He didn’t know why Ryan hadn’t told him; he’d told him everything else since Jon’s birthday back in September – all about his short-lived affair with Brendon and his unrequited love for the man who was now head-over-heels for a beautiful woman. Jon hadn’t really expected it thought - Gabe hooking up with Ryan, despite the fact that he’d thought about it more than once since he’d found out they'd talked to each other online. 

The thought didn’t piss him off like he’d expected it to, but it was a little weird to imagine Gabe hooking up with the co-worker that Jon had lusted after for so long, the man that he and Joe had fucked together only a few months prior and he didn’t particularly welcome Gabe’s presence at Spencer’s wedding either; he didn’t trust him to behave and he knew it’d fall on his shoulders if Gabe made an asshole out of himself. 

The following weekend, Jon and Joe met up with William and Travis. Travis was taking a much-needed night off – selling pot was a full time job, he claimed and it was nice to get away for the evening. It had been a week since Joe’s dad dropped his bombshell and Joe seemed to be holding up pretty well, considering. 

“The thing that pisses me off the most is that my dad made my decision for me. It would have made me feel good – refusing to go to her funeral, but he couldn’t even give me that simple pleasure,” he’d told Jon one evening and Jon had sighed in agreement and brushed his fingers though Joe’s hair as they sat on the couch and watched some crappy made-for-TV movie. _Domestic bliss,_ Jon reflected. _Almost_. 

During their evening out with William and Travis, Jon had found himself stood outside alone with William, trying to smoke a cigarette, despite the freezing temperatures. 

“I heard about Gabe going off to Las Vegas at Thanksgiving,” William said, looking over at him and Jon really _didn’t_ want to deal with his friends’ personal issues, not when his and Joe’s were still a little tense. “Did you know about that?” 

Jon looked down at the ground and dug his boot through the brown slush melting under the heat lamps outside the bar. “Well,” he started, trying to avoid William’s gaze. “Only because I called my friend out in Vegas, trying to organize him to cover my classes after I decided to stay in Chicago. He kind of let the cat out of the bag.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Jesus, Bill – that’s not really my job.” _Don’t come down on me like that, William,_ he wanted to say. _I’m just the guy stuck in the middle. I want nothing to do with your weird, fucked up relationship problems._ “Besides, Gabe told me you’d been hooking up with Travis – and when I came back at Thanksgiving, you two seemed cozy enough together.” 

“I’d have told _you_ , if I’d have know anything about Patrick and Pete,” William sulked, taking a long drag of his cigarette. 

“Would you really? Because I don’t think you would’ve. You couldn’t even ask them to leave when they turned up at your birthday together and to be honest, Bill, Gabe being out in Vegas was the very _least_ of my worries that weekend. Joe found out his mom died a few hours before, I was more concerned with making sure he was okay, over running to tell _you_ that Gabe was out in Vegas.” He threw his burnt out cigarette end onto the ground and watched it sizzle in the snow. He saw the pout form on his friend’s lips as he shook his head. “You can’t have it both ways, Bill,” he told him. 

“I wish I could,” William sighed. “I love them both.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what to say about that. William was used to getting his own way and so was Gabe; it had made them both selfish and greedy and unable to think about other peoples’ feelings. They went chasing their own desires before stopping to consider how they affected those around them. Jon loved William and despite how much Gabe pissed him off sometimes, he loved Gabe too, but they lived their lives in a way Jon couldn’t understand and sometimes that made it hard for him to sympathize with either of them. 

Jon didn’t want to fly out to Las Vegas with Gabe, but that’s what ended up happening. 

Spencer’s wedding was the weekend before Christmas and he and Joe had formulated the plan that if they left early the morning after the wedding, they could make it back to Chicago by Christmas Eve. Jon had already informed his landlord that he was vacating his apartment – he just hoped his car hadn’t been broken into since he’d been gone. He’d called the school the Monday following Thanksgiving and had told the principal about a _family crisis_ that had warranted him staying in Chicago for a couple of weeks. She’d sounded momentarily putout by his news, but there was nothing he could do about it, he told her. 

“Are you going to return at New Year?” she asked him, the frustration clear on her voice and Jon had been incredibly vague, despite the fact his mind was already made up. _Hell no,_ he was not returning at New Year, but she didn’t need to find that out over the phone. He’d reassess that question again once he was back in town for Mr. Smith’s wedding, he told her and she’d sighed and sent her kindest regards before hanging up. 

Gabe, after finding out about Jon and Joe’s plans to drive back to Chicago with all Jon’s belongings had raised an attentive eyebrow and suggested the road trip would be easier on the two of them if he tagged along too. Joe had been the one to quickly nip that idea in the bud. 

“Absolutely no fucking way,” he’d told him. “We don’t need you third-wheeling all the way back to Chicago.” 

Las Vegas was pretty mild, compared to the arctic temperatures in Chicago and the sun was shining when the plane landed at McCarran International. 

Ryan was at the airport waiting for them and it was kind of weird, what with the knowledge of their threesome out in the open. Even Gabe acted a little awkward – for all of about two minutes, before he was winding Ryan into a hug and talking enthusiastically about the coming weekend. 

“So, I guess you’re moving back out to Chicago,” Ryan told him on the drive back to his apartment, looking at Jon in the backseat through the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah,” Jon sighed. “It’s been a long time coming but I’ve finally got my priorities sorted.” He felt Joe smile fondly over at him, but he watched Ryan’s jaw tighten and his knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

Maybe Ryan was using Gabe to get at Jon, he thought briefly – but if that was the case, it was a futile attempt. Jon wasn’t going to stay in Las Vegas for Ryan Ross’s benefit, not when he had much more pressing matters to attend to in Chicago. If Gabe and Ryan wanted to use each other for sex, then that was their prerogative. Jon most certainly wasn’t going to stop them. 

That afternoon, after Ryan had pulled up in front of Jon’s apartment, Gabe had left with him, waving off Joe’s tongue-in-cheek jokes from the passenger side window before they zoomed away down the street as Jon and Joe watched after them. 

“I think Ryan’s still got a crush on you,” Joe told him as they stood on the sidewalk. Jon wrinkled his nose and shook his head dismissively. “Hey, I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d still be super pissed that I only got to experience _one_ of your hot blowjobs. Speaking of which…” he chimed, pushing his hips forward and displaying the bulge in his pants. Jon looked down at it and then tipped his head in the direction of his apartment. 

They didn’t make it as far as the bedroom before Joe’s pants were down, his dick hard in Jon’s palm as he sat back on the worn couch and Jon swallowed his cock. Until he’d met Joe, he’d never been as gung-ho about giving head as he was now. Joe held his face and skull-fucked him, jerking his hips up into Jon’s mouth and after a moment, he’d sunk down on the seat of the couch, spread his legs wide and pulled at the back of Jon’s hair. 

“Stick your finger in my ass,” he gasped, his head tipped back on the couch cushion, his eyes closed as his balls tightened. Jon had obeyed, slicking his finger up with saliva and pushing it against Joe’s asshole – and he’d brought Joe off like that; one finger curled into his prostate as he felt Joe’s dick pulse come into his mouth. 

“You _will_ let me film that one day,” Joe smiled, after Jon had swallowed and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He got to his feet and settled into the crook of Joe’s arm, looking around his sparse apartment. 

“Get me drunk and high enough and I might consider it.” 

“Nah, you always give better head when you’re sober, anyway,” Joe told him, turning his face to press a kiss against Jon’s temple. There was a lull in conversation, until Joe asked, “You’re moving back home because you want to, right – not because of what happened with my dad?” 

Jon paused. Maybe he’d always been looking for an excuse, or maybe he’d finally realized that Joe was more important to him than holding down a responsible job in Las Vegas; either way, he hadn’t really thought about it. The decision to move back home hadn’t required much thought at all after Joe’s father left that Friday. It had seemed almost as natural as the way he’d stood up for his boyfriend in front of his dad, the next logical step in their relationship – it was just something he’d found himself doing, as opposed to actively planning. 

“Of course,” he said. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

Joe tightened his grip around Jon’s shoulder and he felt himself dosing off, his arm slung loosely around Joe’s belly. 

A few hours later, they had most of Jon’s belongings packed up into boxes and when Gabe called him, inviting them out with him and Ryan, Jon had held his cellphone against his chest and asked Joe’s opinion on the matter. Spencer's wedding was only a day away; he felt like he should get some rest - drinking with Gabriel Saporta out on the Strip was certainly not his idea of a relaxing evening, but Joe, his usual unfazed and easy-going self had just shrugged and nodded in agreement.

Gabe had given him the details over the phone – meeting in an hour for drinks; a bar called Cosmo’s, Gabe told him. _Ryan assures me you know where it is._ Jon had looked skywards and sighed an acknowledgement, because maybe meeting at Cosmo’s was another of Ryan’s ploys to make Jon feel awkward. If it was, then his plan was most certainly working, even if his decision to randomly hook up with Gabe tonight to make Jon jealous _wasn't_.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have your speech planned out, Ryan?” Joe asked once the four of them were sat in Jon and Ryan’s usual booth inside Cosmo’s, drinks in front of them as Joe lit up a smoke. 

Ryan sighed and avoided eye contact with Joe, instead settling his eyes on Jon as he brought his beer to his lips. “Public speaking is not my forte,” he said. “I have a few notes, but…” he finished with a hapless shrug. Jon kept his eyes on the table. If Ryan was still harboring a crush, if he _was_ using Gabe to try and make Jon jealous or to try and fuck up his relationship with Joe, Jon wasn’t going to give Ryan the pleasure of seeing him crack.  

“That’s a lie,” Gabe interjected, nudging into Ryan’s shoulder. “Don’t be so modest. He gave me a little preview of his speech this afternoon and it brought a tear to my eye.” Gabe even went as far to wipe an imaginary tear away from his face before breaking into laughter. “And I don’t even know the bride and groom – your friend Ryan here is very good with words. Very good with his mouth,” he added, making Ryan blush.

" _Please_ ," Joe commented. "TMI, Gabe - you're embarrassing him." 

Jon was just thankful that Gabe had such a motor mouth. He was able to keep the conversation alive singlehandedly until it was time for another round. Jon didn’t say much all evening and Joe sat back with a blank expression before Gabe pulled him up from the booth and away to the bar to get more drinks in, leaving Jon alone with Ryan for the first time all day.

“So, you and Joe? It’s actually official? You're moving in together?” 

“Yes. It’s been official for a long while – you knew about that.” Jon stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and reached for Joe’s pack to light up another one – if only to have something to keep him occupied until Gabe and Joe returned. There was a line at the bar, a few people deep. _Fuck, they'd be gone for a while._ Jon turned his attention back to Ryan. 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d do something as drastic as quit your job for him. That’s kind of stupid, if you ask me.” 

“Well, I _didn’t_ ask you, so…” Jon leant back against the high-backed seat and took a long drag on his cigarette, eyeing Ryan through the fug of smoke he exhaled. 

“You’ve been a bit of dick since you left for Thanksgiving. I haven’t heard from you in three weeks.” 

“My boyfriend’s mom died. I’ve kind of had more pressing matters than calling you for a catch-up. Besides, when were you going to tell me you’d invited Gabe out here for Thanksgiving, or were you just hoping I wouldn’t find out?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” 

“No,” Jon laughed. “Is that why you’re doing this? To make me jealous?” 

Ryan’s eyes darkened and Jon glanced back at the bar – Gabe and Joe were ordering drinks. Gabe was engaging an attractive, long haired, pretty-boy in conversation, smiling and touching his shoulder flirtatiously as the guy with the hair laughed at whatever it was that he was saying. The guy kind of reminded him of William. This situation was all kinds of fucked up. He averted his eyes back to Ryan and waited for an answer. 

“Why did you call Spencer instead of me when you needed cover for your classes?” 

“Because Spencer’s in my department – and you’re an English teacher. Ryan, please don’t make this weekend weird. Look, I really _like_ you, Ryan. As a friend, you’ve been awesome since I moved out here, but I love _Joe_. I’d never have gone for that threesome if I’d have known it’d fuck up our friendship like this.” 

Ryan opened his mouth as if he was about to bite back with an argument, but Joe and Gabe were returning to the table with more beer and the conversation died quickly around them. 

When Gabe excused himself to the bathroom a little while later, Ryan turned to Joe and asked, “How did your mom die?” It was abrupt and out of the blue; Joe had even looked a little taken aback by it, but had answered the question after a long slug of beer. 

“She was a drug addict – she got hepatitis from sharing needles. That’s the extent of what I know.” 

Ryan laughed, but Jon could tell it was a nervous reaction. “That sucks,” he said, gripping his glass tight. 

“Yeah – and what also sucks is the fact that you think I’ve not noticed you making eyes at Jon all night.” Ryan weakly tried to defend himself, the same time as Jon put his hand on Joe’s knee and asked him quietly not to pursue the argument any further. “I understand that you may have a little crush, but don’t bring Gabe into it to try and make him jealous – and don’t insult my intelligence by thinking I don’t know what your game plan is.” 

“We should go,” Jon said, pushing against Joe’s shoulder as he watched Ryan bite the inside of his lip and roll his eyes – but there was Gabe, walking across the bar with a tray of tequila shots, presenting them to the table with a flourish. 

“To new beginnings!” he toasted, holding his arm high, but no one else echoed his words as they each reached for a shot glass. Joe pounded his and slammed it down on the tabletop, before draping his arm around Jon’s shoulders. 


	32. Chapter 32

Spencer and Haley’s wedding present had been Joe’s idea – two open return tickets from Las Vegas to Chicago. 

“I’m not sure I enjoy Spencer’s company enough to invite him out to Chicago, man,” Jon had complained as they looked at the pricing online, the evening before they left for the airport. “We literally have nothing in common.” 

“You’re both in committed relationships,” Joe pointed out. _Well, at least that was one thing they could bond over._ “The dude covered your classes for three weeks, Jon, with like two days notice – less than a month before his wedding. Think of it as a thank you present.” Joe was already purchasing the tickets, entering his credit card information as Jon leaned against him. “Now you’re not going to be out in Vegas anymore, we can afford it – take ‘em around all the touristy shit; I’ve never done that before – and it’ll be nice to have guests. Navy Pier, Millennium Park… show them our local haunts – we can take them both by Travis’s house, buy Spencer some weed, maybe he’ll learn to relax a little,” he chuckled. 

Jon scoffed. “Spencer doesn’t even drink, dude. He will want nothing to do with Travis McCoy and his different strains of weed.” 

The plane tickets however had been purchased – a much grander gesture than Jon had initially planned, because Spencer and Haley had an online registry. Jon was prepared to drop a hundred bucks on a coffee machine or a cotton bed sheets or something useful to a newly married couple, not several hundred dollars on a weekend getaway for Spencer Smith and his bride. Despite this though, Joe had assured him that he could afford it and told Jon not to sweat the small things.  _It's money, dude. You can't take it with you when you die._  

The morning of Spencer’s wedding, he and Joe had loaded Jon’s car with his stuff before dropping his keys off with the landlord. His landlord – who was more of a slumlord than anything – was keen to assure Jon that he wouldn’t be receiving his two-hundred and fifty dollar deposit back, due to such short notice, but Jon had chalked it up as a loss and hurried quickly away, eager to leave the apartment complex that had caused his such stress and heartache over the past six months.

It was kind of depressing to see all his worldly possessions fit into the trunk and backseats of his car – Patrick had kept all their co-owned possessions in the break-up; the bed and the coffee table and the TV, the records and the picture frames all the stated memories, but it wasn’t like he cared. He’d chalked that up as a loss too because, after all, in the grand scheme of things, he knew who’d come off richer. 

A few months ago, Patrick had been unhappy enough in his relationship with Pete to let Jon know about it – to try and win him back. Sometimes Jon wondered why he’d chosen that moment, that Wednesday morning to tell him their relationship was over, because it must have been playing on his mind for months. He’d always blamed it on Patrick. _Patrick_ was the selfish dickhead and Jon tried to play the part of the victim, but over time he’d realized that they were probably both to blame. They wanted different things and that wasn't a crime – or maybe they wanted the _same_ things, just not with each other… That pain had once been so _real_ , but now it was intangible to him. 

Patrick had done him a favor, really. Plants don’t grow with sunshine alone – they need the rain too; and through that rain Jon had found the love of his life, the man he wanted to spend forever with, his soul mate. Joe had been there all the time, Jon had just been living with his eyes closed, but now he was wide awake. When he stripped it all down, he had Patrick to thank for that – and Pete too, if he wanted to get to the bare bones of things. 

With one final look up at his apartment, they drove across town to Ryan’s house. Jon could feel all the chains and shackles that had been binding him to a city he hated tumbling off from around his shoulders and it was freeing. He was moving back to Chicago to be with the man he loved. This was _it_ – they didn’t have to say goodbye at the airport this time! It felt good – it felt _great._ This year had been a tough one – he’d lost his job, his long-term boyfriend had dumped him, he’d moved cross-state to try and make a life for himself in Nevada and promptly realized it was a huge mistake as soon as Joe left. _Finally_ , for the first time in almost twelve long months, he couldn’t feel that heaviness weighing down his heart. 

A few days ago he'd have said, _fuck Ryan and his head games_. Ryan knew what he was getting into the whole time; Jon had never been anything but honest with him. It wasn’t _Jon’s_ fault if Ryan couldn’t separate sex from love – or lust or a crush, or whatever the hell it was and he'd have said fuck Brendon too, the spineless fucker, unable to even look Jon in the eye since September, but now he was happy and he was free. He wanted to remain friends with the both of them and he wasn't going to let the situation between them ruin Spencer's wedding day, he thought as he and Joe arrived at Ryan’s place.  _Just smile and be polite._  

He knew for a fact that Ryan himself wasn’t going to be at his house and despite wanting to make things right between the two of them, it calmed his nerves a little to know that he would be busy following his best man duties for the majority of the day. The ceremony was being held at a large Catholic church out in Summerlin – only a short distance from the school, and Joe had looked slightly disappointed when he found out. 

“I come all the way out to _Vegas_ for a wedding and they’re not getting married by Elvis?” he said. “I feel kind of cheated.” 

Gabe, who was impeccably groomed and dressed in what looked like a very expensive grey suit, pushed himself down into the couch between Jon and Joe and draped his long arms over their shoulders. “Wait until they legalize gay marriage in the state of Nevada and you can bring Jon out here. I’m sure Mr. Presley will be stoked to marry the two of you – a little _Love Me Tender,_ some _Viva Las Vegas_?” teased Gabe. “So long as I get to be best man, so I can plan an epic bender, then you two can get as romantic and soppy as you want.” 

Jon laughed – Gabe was fucking ridiculous, he wondered if there was ever a moment in that man’s life where he sat back and decided to be serious. Joe rolled his eyes; he looked a lot less amused than Jon and elbowed Gabe up from the couch. “Your hangover clearing up yet?” he asked. Gabe smiled guiltily and shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. “You were _on_ one last night, dude.” 

After Joe’s small altercation with Ryan at the bar last night, Gabe - who’d been oblivious to the whole situation - had been eager to make the most of his first night back in Las Vegas. He had bought them shots all night and Jon and Joe had left shortly after midnight, leaving Gabe and Ryan together in the booth. Gabe was already on his way to being pretty tanked, but Ryan had assured them that he’d get him home safe. _I can manage,_ he’d claimed, after not so much as a sideward glance at either Joe or Jon for the whole of the evening. 

“Dude, I couldn’t even get a stiffy last night, I was _that_ drunk. I passed out during a _blowjob_. Ryan assured me that it was cool, but I don’t know, I think I’ve ruined my chances. I hope there’s some fucking talent at this wedding, else I am skipping out of this reception thing this evening and finding myself a bar where I can find some cute young Vegas boys to party with.” 

Joe scratched the back of his head and furrowed his brows in Gabe’s direction. “Fuck. _Wow_. That makes you sound like a total _dick_. Do you know this guy?” he asked Jon, jerking his thumb in Gabe’s direction. Gabe rolled his eyes. “Ryan invited you out as his date for his best friend’s _wedding_ – try and stay sober and not be a prick. Ryan’s a nice guy, huh, baby?” He elbowed Jon in the ribs and Jon nodded, but didn’t say anything. “He doesn’t deserve to be dumped by you, so you can go fuck some random dude on the Strip, bro.” 

“Fucking hell, Joe – five minutes with Mr. Domesticated here and you’re scolding me for being a player. Pot, kettle, black, dude. I’ve witnessed you disappear with two, sometimes three different guys in one night, _bro_ ,” Gabe told them, looking at his own reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and adjusting a wayward lock of hair. Jon tried to ignore the image that Gabe had just inserted into his head - of Joe getting his kicks with several random boys a night, back in Chicago. “If Ryan still wants me after my behavior last night then I’m all for playing my part of the committed, potential boyfriend. Trust me, dude’s cute as fuck. Owns this place too?” he noted, looking around “He must be fucking loaded.” 

“Property’s cheap in Vegas – he probably didn’t pay more that one-twenty, one-thirty for this place,” Jon pointed out – and even he could sense the slightest spiteful tinge to his voice. “No one wants to live here, because it’s the middle of the fucking desert and I took a huge pay cut to come teach out in Las Vegas.” 

“Only because you couldn’t get a job in Chi-Town, because you were giving blowies to your ex-boyfriend on the Internet,” Gabe pointed out, at the exact moment that Brendon and Sarah entered the sitting room, glancing over at him with quirked eyebrows. 

Jon’s face ignited and Gabe looked at him in the mirror, mouthing an embarrassed apology before clapping his hands and turning towards Brendon with a big smile. 

“You both look _fabulous_ ,” he beamed. “Sarah, you’re dazzling. Girl, you’re going to upstage the bride.” 

Sarah blushed and laughed and brushed Gabe’s compliment off with a wave of her hand. Brendon rubbed at the small of her back. “That’s what I told her,” he smiled, looking over at Sarah with nothing but love in his eyes. 

Jon and Joe exchanged a small smile, because that’s what he had told Joe before they left his apartment that morning. _You’re totally going to upstage to groom._ Joe looked fucking hot in a suit – he certainly scrubbed up well. The fantasy that he wanted to play out later kept spinning through his head – pulling Joe into him by his tie, unbuttoning that shirt and slipping it down over his shoulders… The reception was being held at a grand hotel with a sprawling golf course a few miles from the church and it was their plan to get a room for the night. Hotel sex… Jon let his mind run away with him imagining it; him and Joe making love on one of those big, hotel beds, sweating together and fucking hard against the headboard – or rimming Joe in the shower until he came in the bathtub or over his fingers and then held them out for Jon to clean off. 

“Baby?” Jon snapped out of his daydream and turned towards Joe. “Did you hear? Gabe’s going to ride with Brendon and Sarah. You’re distracted this morning,” he told him, getting up from the couch and pulling Jon with him and towards the front door. “Everything cool?” 

“Yeah,” he said – Sarah was out on the front lawn with Gabe, she seemed to be explaining how she’d styled her hair and Gabe, ever the social butterfly, looked to be taking a keen interest in her words. “Everything’s fucking awesome,” he told Joe, his hand weaving around his waist - and everything _was_ fucking awesome. Jon had never been happier. There was nothing – _nothing_ that was going to bring him down today.

 

* * *

 

At the church, Jon recognized a few other guests – a couple of fellow teachers who he’d never had much to do with, but who all seemed to know about his self-described _family crisis_ and were keen to offer their commiserations. He found it strange, all these basic strangers getting involved with his personal life, pretending that they’d spent the past three weeks worrying about him. 

When asked if he was going to return to school after the holidays, Jon had shrugged his shoulders and remained vague. One of the other science teachers was sniffing around, hoping to get information about what would surely be a new job opening as subject head after Jon left, but he wanted to give Spencer a heads up first and tell him to go for that promotion – that was a pay rise of a couple of grand, and being head of sciences at twenty-six would definitely look good on his résumé. Spencer would have it in the bag. He was way more committed and way more responsible that Jon ever could be – all Jon had done was confiscate pupils’ weed so he didn’t have to buy his own and sit at the front of the class, praying that his pupils were as unenthusiastic about the subject as he’d become and wouldn’t ask him any questions. Not really a shining example to anyone. 

He was stood with Joe and Gabe, listening to Gabe complaining quietly about being both gay and Jewish and how weird it felt being stood inside the grounds of a Catholic church. He watched Joe nod solemnly in agreement and reminded them both that they were about as Jewish as Spencer was Catholic and not to get themselves too worried about it. A few moments later, he felt Brendon approach behind him and place a cautious hand on his shoulder. 

“Could I steal Jon away for five?” he said as Jon stepped away from the group and Sarah took his place, looking like a goddamn model in her tight black dress. It was with a distinct amount of apprehension that Brendon looked up at Joe and said, “I didn’t get a chance to mention it at the house, but I’m _so_ sorry about your mom…” 

“Oh, shit – don’t be,” Joe said with a laugh as he nodded towards Jon. “ Sure, take him; he’s all yours.” Joe, Gabe and Sarah picked up the conversation as if the interruption had never even happened, as Jon walked with Brendon towards a quieter area of the church grounds. 

“I umm, _so_ ,” Brendon started, as if he’d been planning a speech inside his head all day and now his words were failing him. He dipped his hand into the inside pocket of his grey suit jacket and pulled out a new packet of cigarettes, pulling the cellophane of it and offering it to Jon. Jon accepted, gladly – at the very least he needed a distraction from whatever words Brendon felt the need to speak. Brendon pulled a cigarette from the pack and popped it between his lips. Jon lit it for him and then raised the lighter to his own. “Things okay with Joe?” he asked – which Jon could tell was not the real reason Brendon had pulled him away from the group. 

“Yeah,” Jon replied with a nod, taking a deep inhale on his smoke. “Things are great. It’s been a tough few weeks,” he admitted, “but things are looking up.” 

Brendon let his cigarette burn between his fingers. “That’s good,” he smiled – and his smile was genuine and wide – there was never anything forced or fake about Brendon Urie’s emotions. “Listen, I’m guessing Ryan’s told you – about what happened? About me and him.” 

Jon didn’t know when people started feeling the need to discuss all their relationship woes with him – he was hardly someone they should be taking advice from – his ex had after all, cheated on him for two years – and he’d only _just_ grown balls enough to admit that his main priority now was his relationship with Joe. 

“Dude…” Jon spoke softly. “It’s really nothing to do with me. Ryan said that you’d had – you know?” he paused, wondering how to word it. What was it - _a relationship, an affair, casual sex?_

“Sex. That’s all it was; we slept together a handful of times, but that’s all it ever was; just casual hook-ups – and well, I’m sure you know how those work.” 

That was an assumption on Brendon’s part, because Jon hadn’t experienced a casual hook-up since he was twenty. He took another drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke, without saying anything. 

“That night in the club – you just caught me so off guard and I’m _sorry_. Ryan called me a pussy when I refused to go public with him and I guess he’s right, because I’ve found it hard to even look you in the eye these past few months. I thought you might think I was lying about who I was, lying to Sarah and to my friends about being _gay_ or bi or whatever and I can understand why you’d think that but really…” Brendon sighed and Jon stayed quiet, hoping to let him finish explaining. “Seeing you in the club that night made me realize that there were people in my life I needed to be honest with – that I needed to get a lot of stuff out in the open, because it’s better just to lay your cards on the table, straight up, instead of years down the line, right?” 

“Brendon, look – you don’t have to explain all this to me. I don’t want to sound rude, but I honestly don’t care.” Jon _knew_ he sounded rude, but Brendon flashed him this look which suggested he was desperate to get his words out, so Jon clamped his lips closed and urged him to continue with a silent nod of his head. 

“When I saw you, I knew you’d ask Ryan about it – and Ryan and I, since we… _broke up,_ or whatever – stopped sleeping together; it’s been _weird_ between us. Ryan got kind of bitchy after I called it off. I was worried he was going to tell Sarah, or that word was going to get out and don’t get me wrong, dude, I’m not ashamed – I just wasn’t in love with him. It’s not a crime, right?” 

“Of course not,” Jon replied, looking down at the floor. “When you’re not in love with someone there’s no point sticking it out.” 

Perhaps that’s how Patrick had felt. Perhaps he’d fallen out of love with Jon years ago and had never been man enough to tell him. 

“ _Exactly_. That’s what I’ve always thought, but anyway, I didn’t need the stress of Ryan knowing I’d been to a gay bar without him; I knew he’d take it personal, he’d use it as another piece of evidence that I’m actually gay and am lying to myself – which I’m _not._ That night I ran into you and Joe, I’d met up with some old college friends; some girls I used to hang out with – both of them big time lesbians, by the way – but I was just hanging out and I might had take a little, _tiny bit_ of coke – and I was embarrassed - not about being at the bar,” he quickly assured Jon. "About being on drugs." 

Jon raised his eyebrows and let a smile creep across his face. Brendon had looked high as a kite that night – he’d definitely taken more than a _little, tiny bit_ of coke. 

“It just brought it all home to me, you know? I’ve got a girlfriend and you caught me out in a gay bar. I thought; _what if Sarah finds out? Will she leave me?_ So I told her. She knows – she knows everything and she’s awesome, because she doesn’t care – not about anything that went on before I met her or about Ryan – she _understands_ me, Jon. She’s the love of my life and I was so worried that if she found out that I’d, you know… fucked a few men in my past,” he whispered through the side of his mouth, “that she’d leave me - and it took me a long time to pluck up the courage but we talked at Thanksgiving. She’s the first girl who totally just accepted me for who I am. The first woman – the first ever _person_ who I can imagine being with until I die. I want a family with her – and that never seemed important to me before. I wanted to go out, wanted to party and do things like take coke and sleep with strangers and _now…_ Fuck, with her, Jon, I’m happy enough when she just smiles at me.” 

Jon smiled over at Brendon and let his eyes drift over towards Joe and Sarah and Gabe, still all stood together, laughing and joking. “I sure know that feeling, dude.” 

Brendon nodded and brought his cigarette to his mouth for the first time. “I’m going to ask her to marry me on Christmas day.” 

“Wow. As soon as that?” Jon straightened up and watched Sarah smiling wide at some anecdote that Joe was telling, the thought washing over him and taking him by surprise – he would marry Joe in a heartbeat, if they ever had the chance. The realisation made his heart thump. “Congrats, dude. Sarah’s cool. Make sure you invite Joe and I to the wedding – you’re going to make a wonderful couple.” 

Brendon smiled – perfect teeth and dark brown eyes twinkling. “Thanks. You and Joe seem… _solid._ I’m glad you’re moving back to Chicago with him. I mean, we’ll miss you around here, but… Sarah and I have been talking. She wants me to move out to LA. Living apart from her if just too damn hard, man. It’s funny, all this time we’ve both been in long-distance relationships. We could have bonded over that. It’s fucking difficult, right?” Brendon’s brows furrowed. 

“It's not something I’m planning on doing again any time soon,” Jon pointed out, lifting his hand to give Brendon’s back a friendly pat. “Ryan’s convinced you’re gay, you know?” he said with a chuckle as they fell into step beside each other and walked back towards the group. 

“Ryan’s awesome, but he’s convinced about a lot of dumb shit. He was convinced that you and Joe would invite him for, like… a _threesome,_ when he came out here for your birthday.” 

Jon laughed – too loud and shook his head, unable to keep the guilty grin from his lips as they returned to stand next to their respective partners. Joe rubbed at Jon’s back, pulling him in gently against his side and Jon let himself lean there as Joe kissed the side of his head. 

“I’m the odd one out,” Gabe complained. “The only one without a date right now.” He sighed in frustration – it was a rare occurrence that Gabe was left without _someone_ hanging off his arm. Jon was so used to that person being William that it was odd to picture him with anyone else – especially Ryan, but he nodded behind Gabe’s shoulder at Ryan stood by the church doors with Spencer, welcoming guests as they filed in. 

“ _Christ_ ,” Gabe said, crossing himself and then clasping his hands together in prayer. “Forgive me, father, for I will sin. Tonight. With the best man.” 

Sarah was the only one to laugh genuinely, as she hooked her arm through Brendon’s. Gabe strode on ahead, leaving the four of them together as he schmoozed his way towards Ryan and stood beside him, leaning his elbow over Ryan's shoulder and offering his hand to the surrounding wedding guests as he introduced himself without a care in the world. 

Jon smiled and opened up his palm as he felt Joe’s hand reach for his, Joe's fingers closing tightly around him.


	33. Chapter 33

Always had [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzlGZDzdsPg) song in mind while writing the following slow-dance scene - [This Year's Love by David Grey](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzlGZDzdsPg).

 

* * *

 

It had taken Jon longer than it should have to realize that Joe was one big, old soppy romantic at heart. 

Jon had never been one for public displays of affection. He knew he often had to keep his wits about him in public. He’d only been caught off-guard once or twice before and sometimes he forgot that certain members of the general public were fiercely against watching two gays make out - but none of that seemed to bother Joe Trohman. He didn’t pay any attention to the embarrassed glances from older members of the Smith family or to the hushed whispers from Jon’s now ex co-workers. 

He had pulled Jon up to the dance floor about halfway through the night, just as the party was getting going and Jon had enjoyed enough white wine that evening to only put up a slight objection as Joe dragged him across the floor as the music played. 

It was kind of like one of those awkward scenes in a high school movie, because up until that point of the night, the DJ had been spinning party classics – Gabe had been on the dance floor all night, his jacket was off, his tie loosened as he beckoned old aunts out of their seats and twirled young flower girls around on the toes of his shoes. Gabe was certainly winning over the masses and Ryan had been watching him surreptitiously all night, but as soon as Jon and Joe arrived on the dance floor, the upbeat music stopped and bled into one of the first slow-dance songs of the evening. 

“Well,” Joe said, standing in front of him awkwardly, his blue eyes glancing hesitantly over at the DJ booth. “I didn’t plan this, I swear.” 

“Hmm. Sure you didn’t,” Jon laughed, throwing caution to the wind and dipping his head against Joe’s shoulder as the first few bars of a slow piano introduction played over the speakers. In these situations it was easier to roll with the punches, to carry nonchalantly on and not let others sense embarrassment, Jon decided. Joe’s hands slipped around his waist, holding his hips as Jon stepped against him. 

It wasn’t like they were they only people on the dance floor – far from it in fact. Sarah and Brendon were swaying together, holding each other in the opposite corner - her head on his shoulder, and Spencer and Haley were right in the middle, the center of everyone’s attention, their fingers linked and their eyes locked, looking like they’d never been more in love. There were various aunts and uncles and cousins and family friends taking to the dance floor with their loved ones and Jon glanced around before resting one hand on Joe’s shoulder and the other around his hip as they started to move to the music. 

Usually Jon would have refused to dance to such a slow song, especially in a room full of strangers – at least, he always would have with Patrick, but he was two of three glasses of wine past caring and as the vocals rang out, he dropped his head back against Joe’s shoulder and let his eyes slip closed. It had been a long day – a long few weeks. He needed this; this clarity. 

Joe always smelt fucking incredible – it was that faint cologne and cigarette smoke on his shirt collar that drove Jon almost to the point of distraction. Jon sniffed him in, inhaling his scent. It was intoxicating – almost like he could get high off that alone. He moved his lips against Joe’s neck as they swayed and let himself reflect on the day. 

The ceremony had been beautiful – long and Catholic and full of hymns with dodgy lyrics, but _beautiful_. All Haley’s planning had most certainly paid off – it was a true fairytale wedding. Disney himself could not have done any better. When the couple said their vows and was finally allowed their first kiss as husband and wife, the whole church cheered and clapped and snapped photographs and Jon had felt this inexplicable feeling of warmth filling his heart, because that was true love and happiness right there. 

He’d never given much thought to the sacred bond of marriage – he understood why people did it and there were many reasons, not all of them necessarily the right ones, but he’d never thought of himself as someone who was easily swept away with big romantic gestures and lifelong promises. Spencer and Haley’s wedding however had got him thinking – he’d never be a sucker for the flowers and the photographers or the hundreds of guests, but he sure as hell understood the sentiment. 

The day had left Jon feeling warm and content. For Spencer and Haley, this was the peak of the mountain – getting married, settling down together with future hopes of starting a family. Jon felt kind of the same about Joe right there on the dance floor – as if they were embarking on a similar journey of their own. Marriage and babies were certainly not on their agenda, but it was a new, exciting chapter for the two of them. Moving in together, becoming _officially_ official – six months ago, that would have filled him with fear and apprehension. Six months ago, those feelings had forced him to move all the way out to _Nevada,_ but now it all felt like destiny; like fate – as if it was all written in the stars. He and Joe had been on a rollercoaster of a journey but finally, after so much denial, they were both on the right path together. 

Out on the dance floor, Jon let the lyrics wash over him, tightening his grip around Joe’s waist and unable to pull away. Joe’s hand slid up his back, into the nape of his neck to pull gently at his hair and the move made Jon shiver against him in anticipation. He turned his mouth against Joe’s neck and pressed a kiss there. 

“I love you,” Joe told him, the sentiment simple and unassuming. It forced Jon’s stomach to twist inside him. This time last year he’d have been dancing with Patrick while Patrick thought about Pete. He was glad that this year’s love was Joe. 

 _Joe_ , who’d infiltrated his life and blown it wide apart after only a few short weeks. It sounded like a worn out cliché, but Jon didn’t know how he’d lived so long without him. Joe was the man who’d made it impossible for him to be happy unless they were in the same city together. Jon didn’t know quite how he’d managed it, how he’d become such a sap for a man who’d been his friend for over ten years, but he knew now that he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I want to spend forever with you,” Joe told him over the music. 

Jon’s heart contracted behind his ribs, Joe’s words stirring a warmth inside his chest that he couldn’t deny. He smiled into his shoulder and pulled back as the chorus built. Joe blinked back at him, a similar dopey grin on his face. 

“Me too,” he said, raising his hands against Joe’s cheeks and pulling him in, their lips an inch from each other. Joe closed his eyes and his body relaxed against Jon’s, hardly moving to the song at all now, just stood together, Joe’s face still in Jon’s grip, waiting to be kissed. 

As the chorus swelled around them, Jon pressed forward, throwing all caution to the wind. He pushed his lips gently down onto Joe’s, letting his own eyes slip closed as Joe kissed back – two long, closed-mouth kisses lingering on his lips. 

The music played around them and it seemed that that’s all there was; just him and Joe and the music. Nothing else in the entire world mattered to Jon at that moment – not Ryan or the gossip or whoever was watching them. The only thing that mattered to him was letting Joe know he was loved and cared for – that he was the most important person in the world to him. They moved together, Jon’s head eventually pulling back, his chin hooking over Joe’s shoulder, his hand in the back of his hair. 

The song played to an end and Jon kissed up towards Joe’s ear. “I _adore_ you,” he said between kisses and relaxed into Joe’s tightening embrace as another slow love song played through the room.

 

* * *

 

It was late and the remaining wedding guests were all desperately hanging on, eager to make the very most out of the open bar and the free bottles of wine still littering the tables. 

All the great aunts and uncles and cousins with young kids had all started to retire. The general consensus was that everyone invited had had an incredible time. Haley looked beautiful, Spencer made a very handsome groom and the reception had been a blast – considering the Smith’s didn’t drink, they sure knew how to throw a party. Jon had imagined a stated affair, he’d imagined making his excuses after a few hours so he could disappear into a hotel room with Joe, but they were both among the last of the stragglers – the band had packed up long ago, the DJ had finished his set and they were sat listening to Haley’s iPod, plugged into the speakers and playing out nineties pop hits – the Backstreet Boys and early Britney; all stuff that Jon didn’t care for, but songs that Gabe and Brendon and Sarah were enjoying singing along to. 

Ryan had approached him when Joe was in the bathroom. It was the first time they’d spoken all day and Jon was at that point in the evening where he was feeling weighed down with alcohol; where he’d almost drunk himself sober again – his body felt heavy, his words lazy as Ryan sat down beside him and gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze. 

“Nice day, huh?” he said, pulling his empty wine glass towards him and bringing it to his lips, pouring the last, tiniest drop of remaining alcohol into his mouth. “You gave a great speech, man.” 

“Thanks.” Ryan smiled and Jon watched his eyes scan slowly across the dance floor to settle on Gabe. 

Ryan’s speech had most of the female wedding guests in tears. Gabe had been right; Ryan was good with words, but Jon expected no less from his favorite English teacher. Ryan rolled his shoulders and opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped short. Jon unconsciously brought his glass to his lips again but dropped his hand, disappointed at the reminder that it was still empty. Ryan smiled over at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words muttered out of barely open lips. “I’m sorry about last night – for upsetting Joe, for acting so weird recently. I’ve enjoyed your company since you arrived at the school – enjoyed the two of us, just hanging out. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to be as honest with someone as I was with you. I guess I’ll miss that when you leave – Friday nights together down at Cosmo’s…” 

“Maybe the school will employ some new science hunk you can sink your claws into,” Jon suggested, nudging into Ryan teasingly. “You’re always welcome to visit, Ryan. I think you’d enjoy Chicago.” 

Ryan gave a small smile and rubbed his long fingers over his eyes. “That’s what Gabe told me – that I’d enjoy Chicago. He’s already told me I have a place to stay if I ever come visit.” 

“See,” Jon elbowed him. “No excuse now.” 

A small pause rang out between them, but Jon was pleased that he didn’t feel awkward in the silence. “I guess I kind of embarrassed myself over the last few weeks. Seeing you and Joe together today, I just…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I kind of want to hate him, you know, but I can’t. He makes that totally impossible. He’s just so _cool._ A great guy,” he smiled, his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on the table. “You deserve someone like him. I’m not sure who I’m more jealous of, actually,” he laughed.   

Jon smiled and felt the blush rise on his cheeks. “What about Gabe?” he probed. “Any chemistry there or did he totally ruin his chances after last night?” 

Ryan grinned and his eyes turned back to the dance floor, seeking out Gabe. He was dancing with an older wedding guest – some zany, great aunt of Spencer’s who was gripping onto his elbows, peering up at Gabe’s tall frame through thick-lensed spectacles with a massive grin on her face. They both regarded the scene in front of them for a minute and Ryan hummed quietly to himself and tilted his head as he looked back over at Jon. 

“Gabe’s _hot,_ but we’ve hardly had a chance to talk all day. I think he’s everyone’s favorite wedding guest though, he’s certainly made an impression.” Another pause, before Ryan straightened up in his seat. “He fell asleep during a blowjob last night though. Maybe I need some tips.” Ryan looked at him with a pout, which soon broke into laughter when Jon rolled his eyes. 

“Practice makes perfect, man – and I’m pretty sure that last night was Gabe’s fault. He’s embarrassed - he likes you; he told me. I’m not even trying to be match-maker here, but he wouldn’t be dancing like that with grandma over there, if he wasn’t trying real hard to impress you.” 

Ryan nodded in understanding and Jon noticed his lips twitch. “I’m going to miss you, dude. _Fuck_ , school’s going to be so boring now. We can still be friends, right? I mean, despite what happened back in September – no funny business. I still want to keep in touch with you – and with Joe; with the both of you.” 

“Sure.” Jon nodded and placed a comforting hand on Ryan’s back, rubbing across his shoulder and feeling the bones underneath his shirt. “I’d like that.” Sometimes when he looked at Ryan, all he could picture in his head was Ryan’s face when Joe slipped his fingers inside his asshole beside Jon’s dick. He loosely remembered the night they went out for his birthday –  before the threesome, when Joe had cornered them both at the far end of a club and watched them make out. He dropped his hand and scratched at his beard. “You staying at the hotel tonight?” he asked, quietly. He’d just been curious – he hoped Ryan didn’t take that as a come-on, an invitation back to his and Joe's room.

Ryan pulled a key out of his pocket and dropped it onto the table. _Room 411._ Jon let his finger trace the gold numbers on the key ring. _Damn,_ he and Joe were 409. If he mentioned they were just next door to each other that would _definitely_ sound like flirting, like a suggestion of sorts and Ryan had Gabe tonight; or at least, to the best of Jon’s knowledge, Gabe didn’t have a room of his own – so he kept his lips clamped and watched the door for Joe’s return. It was a few more minutes before Joe returned, stinking of pot. 

“Guess who I just shared a joint with?” he grinned, sitting down heavily next to Jon and rubbing his neck. 

“Indulge us,” Jon said, smiling back at him. 

“Father of the groom. Spencer’s _dad_ ,” Jon announced, wiggling his eyebrows. Jon laughed, Ryan’s jaw physically dropped open. “Dude,” Joe said, looking over Jon at Ryan behind him, his voice slow and lazy, “whoever you’re getting your weed from, stop _immediately_ and hit up Mr. Smith for the address of his supplier, because I swear,” Joe broke into a wide, dopey smile, “I had like three drags and that’s got me high as a kite.” 

Jon looked over at him. Joe’s eyes were red from the weed, his face relaxed and happy. “D’you want to go to bed?” he asked, rubbing his hand up Joe’s thigh. 

“Yeah,” Joe smiled, shifting in his chair. “Ryan, I think Gabe needs another dancing partner.” The three of them looked over at the dance floor. Gabe was still dancing with Spencer’s insane aunt, twirling her round in slow circles and when he caught their eyes, he had this horrible look of desperation on his face as he beckoned Ryan over with his free hand. The three of them laughed, Joe biting his amusement down into Jon’s shoulder and with one final, warm glance over at the two of them, Ryan pushed his chair back and walked across the room to the edge of the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

“Get cleaned up for me,” were Joe’s first words to him as soon as the hotel room door clicked to a quiet close behind them. The words were kissed down onto Jon’s neck, as Joe pulled his shirt free from his pants and yanked at the buckle of his belt. 

“Why don’t you come give me a hand?” Jon mumbled, making quick work of sliding Joe’s suit jacket off his shoulders as they kissed against the wall. Jon was a little tipsy and Joe was obviously horny after getting stoned on that joint with Spencer’s _father,_ of all people. _Spencer’s_ father! The thought of Spencer’s face if he ever found out pulled a smile onto Jon’s lips and he pushed one hand up into Joe’s hair and brought their mouths together. He slid a finger over the knot of Joe's tie and down to the tip before he gripped it in his hand and pulled him into the bathroom, toeing his shoes off as they went. 

Jon reached into the bath to turn the shower on and stuck his hand under the stream of water waiting for it to warm up. He could now play out his fantasy of finally getting Joe out of that sexy suit. He took a step towards him, drying his hand off quickly on the leg of his pants and loosened his tie slowly, gripping the two free ends between his fingers and using them to pull Joe’s mouth towards him. As they kissed, Jon let the tie fall to the floor and blindly fumbled the buttons of Joe's shirt open. He could have just rushed this part, pulled Joe’s shirt over his head as soon as he had the first few buttons undone, but he wanted to take his time. The two men held eye-contact when Jon pulled back, unfastening each and every button until he got to the bottom, pushing it back over his shoulders to reveal Joe’s tattoos. He stared, his eyes flying over the colorful markings, his hands slipping down Joe’s arms, dragging the shirt all the way off as he moved. 

“Things okay with you and Ryan?” Joe asked after he pulled the shirt cuffs from Joe’s wrists and let it fall to the floor. He slid to his knees on the bathroom floor in front of him and loosened his belt, whipping it out of the loops of his pants and tugging them down. _Fuck, he’d wanted to do this all day..._ Joe steadied his balance with one hand on top of Jon’s head as he stepped out of his pants and Jon pressed his face against the soft fabric of Joe’s briefs and inhaled him, pulling his scent straight into his lungs. 

“Everything’s fine,” he breathed – but he didn’t want to talk about Ryan right now. He wanted to concentrate on _Joe._ He opened his mouth against the fabric, biting down gently on the twitching shaft of Joe’s dick underneath, as the bathroom steamed up. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, mouth still moving wet circles around Joe’s constricted dick. “How do you do it? You drive me absolutely _crazy_.” He let his hands grip at Joe’s hips and pulled his underwear down teasingly slow. When Joe’s hard cock sprung free, it almost hit Jon in the face and he flicked his eyes up to meet his boyfriend’s as he tightened his palm around the thick base.   

“Do you think anything is going to come of him and Gabe?” 

“I’m on my knees in front of you,” Jon pointed out, resting the tip of Joe’s big cock only barely against his bottom lip. “My mouth is _so_ ready to suck your dick – and you want to talk about Gabe and _Ryan_?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  

“Shit. _No_. Sorry.” Joe looked away, up at the ceiling and Jon teased him, flicking his tongue across the leaking slit of his cock and sucking at the head until Joe looked back down at him. He grinned around his dick and he could tell that Joe was trying his very best not to thrust forward and fuck his mouth. His hand gripped tight at Jon’s shoulder and Jon let his dick go, pressing his nose against the underside of it as he licked up the shaft. 

“Such a fucking tease,” Joe breathed, his words almost lost under the beating water from the shower. “ _God_ , I’m so happy you’re coming home with me this time.” 

Jon pulled back and got to his knees, leaving Joe hard and frustrated in front of him. He pulled at his tie, eager to feel Joe’s warm, bare skin against his. He fumbled with his buttons, quickly ridding himself of his shirt as Joe watched him and then yanked down his pants and his underwear at the same time, kicking them off around his ankles. 

“I was hoping for a little striptease,” Joe told him, reaching out to run a finger along Jon’s stiffening dick. 

“Maybe next time.” Jon climbed into the bathtub, throwing the shower curtain back and beckoning Joe to follow. Jon felt his muscles immediately relax under the powerful stream of hot water. He dipped his head back to wet his hair and closed his eyes as he felt Joe climb into the tub beside him. 

Despite how much he’d previously heard people raving about shower sex, it had never really appealed to Jon. Having sex in the shower was inconvenient to say the least – even just showering with someone was less than ideal when it was inside a too-small hotel bathtub, the one lone showerhead unable to reach them both at the same time. 

He stood up against the wall of the shower and let Joe pass in front of him to get wet and stood shivering as he watched Joe lather himself up with body wash, his dick now only half-hard, bobbing between his legs. He was reminded about their first night in Salt Lake City, back in the shitty motel where he’d fallen in love. He smiled over at Joe fondly and stepped against him when the other man made a grab for his wrist. 

His hand came up to rub at Jon’s jaw and they made out until they were both hard again under the stream of water. His breath got caught in his throat when he pulled back. Joe’s eyes were dazed, his hair wet and flat against his head and Jon pulled their foreheads together, reaching down between their bodies to grip both their dicks in his fist. 

“I want you to fuck me hard with this big cock of yours,” Jon told him, holding eye contact. “I want to feel it for _days,_ Joe – all the way back to Chicago.” 

“Don’t beat around the bush, will you?” Joe smiled. “Say what you mean.” 

Jon started jerking them off slowly, the lather of the body wash acting as makeshift lube. He pressed his mouth against Joe’s ear. “Want you to take me back to the bedroom, want you to pin me down and _fuck_ me. God, Joe,” he sighed, pulling back and shaking the suds from his skin, “want you to make me yours, I want you to come in my ass and-” He didn’t get anything else out. Joe’s mouth was on his, pushing him back against the opposite wall of the shower, their bodies hard and wet and he thrust against him. 

“Turn around,” Joe told him, pushing roughly at his hips. 

“Not here,” Jon reasoned, but he was turning around anyway, opening his legs as far as the bathtub would allow. Joe pulled his hips back and Jon bent at the waist, supporting himself on the shower wall. “Babe, please let’s do this in bed.” Joe almost had him whining the words.  

He waited for the dull intrusion of Joe’s fingers or his cock and closed his eyes, but it didn't come. He was aware of Joe still behind him, of him sinking to his knees and then parting his ass cheeks and Jon pressed his forehead hard against the wall as he felt Joe’s tongue lick around his asshole and then dip slowly, deftly inside. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, his cock standing to full erection almost immediately. “You’re so _good_ at this, baby. So, _so_ good.” 

Joe rimmed him in the shower like that, water still beating down around them and Jon felt like his heart was in his mouth or in his guts or somewhere it hadn't been before. He couldn’t help himself pushing back against it, against Joe’s _tongue_ in his _ass_ and he groaned before forcing his eyes open and standing up straight. 

“Need your dick inside me, Joe,” he warned, stepping out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist. Joe followed shortly after, not bothering with his own towel as he walked Jon backwards out of the bathroom and towards the bed. They fell to the mattress, Jon’s legs wrapped around Joe’s middle, their dicks hard and trapped between their stomachs, separated by fabric. 

Joe pressed his hips down, rutting against Jon a few times until he started to arch his back into it, letting his eyes close as he enjoyed the friction between the two of them. 

“Nice wedding, huh?” Joe commented – and his words were almost absent as he bit down on the juncture between Jon’s shoulder and neck. 

“Amazing,” he agreed quietly, turning his head to catch Joe’s temple with his lips. Joe pulled back, sitting up slowly between Jon’s legs and sucking his fingers into his mouth. Fuck, he was so hot. _How the hell did I get so lucky,_ Jon asked himself. 

“Are you gonna want that one day?" Joe closed the distance between them again as his finger rubbed between his cheeks and around his already sensitive asshole. “Commitment? Lifelong?” The tip of Joe’s finger teased him open, barely rubbing gentle circles inside him. 

“Don’t we already have that?” Jon’s voice was dry in his mouth. 

“Between the two of us, yeah – but…” Joe fell short, taking a deep inhale through his nose as he buried his face into Jon’s neck, his hair tickling Jon’s nose. “I never thought it was possible to love someone this much. I’m gonna make you _so_ happy. You won’t regret moving home, Jon.” 

“I know. Oh, baby, I know.” 

“I’m going to be the man you deserve. I'm never going to hurt you, not like he did.” Joe’s finger slipped deeper, he pulled back and added a second, curling his digits up against Jon’s prostate – Jon felt his muscles begin to melt away from his bones, felt the arousal thrum through his body. 

In only the past few months, Joe had surpassed Patrick in every way imaginable. Jon now couldn’t picture his life without him. It was weird to think that they’d known each other for so long and had taken ten years to fall in love. All those years with Patrick seemed wasted now. 

Joe’s finger brushed purposefully against Jon’s prostate and before long, his legs had fallen wide apart as Joe scissored him open and sucked his dick at the same time, his free hand sliding up his chest to twist at a nipple. Jon was worried that Joe was going to make him come right there and then – he’d have managed it, with only a few small movements of his fingers, but he withdrew, lining his cock up against Jon’s asshole and pushing in slowly – achingly slow, causing Jon to curse and pull Joe closer to him with his legs around his waist. 

“I wanna be fucked, baby,” Jon told him, moving with Joe’s slow thrusts. “Give it to me,” he ordered. “Hard.” 

“You want me to show you why you can’t live without me?” Joe asked, water droplets still on his shoulders, his hair hanging in damp, wet curls across his eyes. 

“Yes. _Please_.” Jon let the words slip from his mouth as a groan, as he felt Joe's dick fill him up. He pushed his hand around the back of his head and gasped as Joe fucked into him, long, hard thrusts at first which made him have to bite his lip to stop himself from coming right there and then – Joe was _so_ good, _so_ knowledgeable of Jon’s body already, so fucking hot and sexy, that sometimes it was hard not to just fall apart at his fingertips. 

Jon heard it as his body peaked. He heard it over Joe’s panting and his own moans and the creak of the bed as Joe fucked him, but he was too far gone to care or to stop. He could hear a thumping on the wall behind the bed – but he was so close and Joe was fucking him so well that he closed his eyes, relaxed his jaw and tried to ride out the orgasm that was inside him. 

The noise from behind the wall sounded again – and again, and again until the knock of headboard on plaster started to drum out a slow, steady rhythm from the room next door – Room 411; Ryan’s room, Jon realized, without even thinking about it. 

He groaned in frustration, trying to block out the sound of sex – trying to erase the image of what he knew was happening behind that wall from his head – Ryan was getting fucked by Gabe and it was really fucking off-putting. If he closed his eyes tight enough and thought about the feeling inside his dick hard enough, he could still chase that climax, he thought but _f_ _uck,_ his erection was waning… 

“Jon. Look at me.” He felt Joe’s hands on his cheeks and when Jon opened his eyes, his blue eyes were looking down at him, brow slightly furrowed, sweat gathering at his hairline. “Concentrate on _us_ ,” he said. “On me and you. You’re the one I want. No one else. Just _you_ , Jon – I fucking _love_ you. _Christ…_ ” Jon felt Joe come, felt his dick pulsing inside him and after that, not even Ryan and Gabe’s muted cries and groans were enough to stop him – he let himself go, feeling his orgasm shatter through his body, shaking underneath Joe’s touch as he came, with one more final, wordless moan of his partner's name. 

As he came down, the pounding on the wall was frenzied and fast, loud against the wall – and then, no less than a few seconds later, it stopped so abruptly that Jon and Joe exchanged a small look and broke into laughter. 

“Who d’you think the Ten Second Wonder is?” Joe asked him, brushing Jon’s wet hair back out of his eyes and kissing his forehead. He pulled out slowly, rubbing his fingers through the drying come on Jon’s belly before settling down onto the pillow beside him. Jon laughed into Joe’s shoulder, pulling their bodies close and pressing a kiss down onto his skin, tasting the sweat on his lips. “I’ve got big plans for you tomorrow,” Joe told him, with a contented sigh. 

“Oh, _really_?” Jon’s interest piqued. He flicked his eyes up to see Joe’s closed, a small, satisfied smile still on his lips.   

“Yeah; so long as we make it to Salt Lake City by the early evening, that is. Should only take us about six hours. I’ll drive,” he offered.   

“Back to Salt Lake, huh?” he smiled, closing his eyes as he felt Joe’s breathing slow against him. “Back to where it all began?” 

“’Fraid so,” Joe sighed. “You’re going to have to indulge my romantic streak for just _one_ more night.” 

“Aww, I was just getting used to it. Only  _one_ more?” Jon pouted, his lips breaking into a smile as he relaxed against Joe’s warm body. 

“Infinite more... If you’ll let me.” 

And those were the words that Jon dreamt about when he fell asleep. 


	34. Chapter 34

Music plays a huge role in how I write and how I construct scenes. Sometimes I write around certain songs and therefore, I made a playlist of tunes that I feel relate well to the second half of this series, which can be found [here](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/A+Deeper+Shade+Of+Blue/90156591), in case anyone is interested.

* * *

 

“ _Fuck_ , Joe,” Jon breathed quietly, as he looked around the expansive lobby of the hotel in Utah. “Are you sure you can afford this?” 

“Don’t insult me by asking that question,” Joe scolded light-heartedly as the young, female receptionist entered his credit card details and finalized the transaction, looking up at them warily. They were underdressed – they weren’t wearing the right clothes or the correct, high fashion ski jackets. The two of them looked slightly out of place in the lobby of the five-star hotel. “Only the best for my favorite guy,” he smiled, lifting his hand to rub down Jon’s arm, linking their fingers together before pulling quickly away. Jon stiffened, glancing around the room and immediately hated himself for it, but they were in Utah now after all, and people out here weren’t generally known for their high levels of acceptance and liberal views regarding same sex relations – especially somewhere as overtly obnoxious as a _luxury ski resort_. 

Joe had driven him all the way out to an incredible hotel; a five-star resort nestled high up in the Wasatch mountains, about thirty miles outside of Salt Lake City. Jon had always enjoyed nature; being out somewhere where his cellphone had no signal and the air was clean and fresh. It sure made a huge difference from the still desert air back in Vegas and the city pollution in Chicago, but he was finding it difficult to absorb his beautiful surroundings. There was just so much to take in. 

Out in the parking lot, his car looked out of place - stuffed full of his junk and surrounded by shiny BMWs and brand new Mercedes’. As Chicago boys they were used to driving in the snow, but his car had struggled to make it up the mountain to the lodge – and Joe sometimes made Jon nervous just driving through the city or on the freeway, let alone on snowy mountain roads, but once they arrived, the view was incredible. 

It was a view that people wrote books about – sad winter tales about loss and despair or heady, glamorous stories about the rich elite, snowed into their luxury chalets, in the middle of nowhere. 

“You don’t have to do all this for me,” Jon pointed out. “I don’t need expensive hotel rooms. I’m not high-maintenance.” 

“Dude,” Joe sighed, his voice sounding frustrated enough that Jon’s lips clamped closed. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “It’s your _Christmas_ present. If I can’t treat you at Christmas, then when can I?” 

Jon looked around the lobby, decked out in warm, muted colors – a large open fireplace in the center of the room, which looked out over snow-covered mountains. The hotel was all glass and wood and rustic winter furnishings and Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anything so beautiful. He felt slightly dazed when Joe pulled him into step alongside him and they walked towards the elevators to the right of the check-in desk. 

Joe regarded him quietly. “Don’t you like it?” 

Jon snorted. “Fuck. Joe, it’s _wonderful_. When you said last night that you had big plans, I was hardly expecting _this_.” 

Joe smiled. He looked proud of himself. “We’re booked for dinner in the restaurant at seven thirty. I don’t know if it’ll be as nice as that place you took me for my birthday, but it had some good reviews.” Joe was playing down his generosity, making Jon think that he hadn’t spent weeks planning this very day. “When I booked the room a few weeks ago, the chick at the desk said there was great star-gazing and thankfully it’s meant to be a clear night, so.” Joe almost blushed and rubbed his hand over his face as Jon grinned up at him. 

“You’re _definitely_ a keeper,” he smirked as the elevator pinged and the doors opened in front of them. They both stepped inside and thankfully they were the only two on the ride up to their floor. It was only a short journey – about twenty seconds, but Jon wrapped both his arms around the trunk of Joe’s body and buried his head into his chest. “This is the nicest hotel I’ve ever been to – sure beats all those motels we stayed at when we drove out to Vegas, huh?” 

That morning, Jon and Joe had left the hotel in Las Vegas early. Joe was keen to hit the road and when they pushed into the room together, Jon totally understood why. They had a killer view – all snow-capped trees and huge, sprawling mountains; a small fireplace separated the sleeping area from a modest lounge and Jon looked around, dumbstruck. 

“Damn,” he whistled, “I could get used to this. This is amazing,” he grinned, linking his fingers with Joe’s and lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“You’re worth it,” Joe told him with a shrug and they both stood out on the small, snowy balcony, smoking – watching the skiers zoom down the mountainside. 

Las Vegas was only six hours behind them, but it might as well have been a totally different world. Before they’d left that morning, he’d knocked on Ryan’s door a little before eight o’clock, not particularly expecting an answer but Gabe had come to the door in nothing but his boxer shorts, his grin widening when he saw Jon stood there. 

“Good morning,” he said. “Is Ryan in there with you?” 

Gabe’s smile grew impossibly brighter at the mention of Ryan’s name and Gabe pushed his fingers back through his hair as he stepped out into the hallway, holding the door ajar with his foot. 

“He’s _so_ fucking cute, huh? You’ll be glad to know that I managed _not_ to fall asleep during the blowjob last night,” he informed Jon, with a distinct amount of pride in his voice. Later, in the car on the way out of Nevada, Jon and Joe would laugh about that together. 

“Yeah. Joe and I heard. We were in the room next door – you’re loud. Kind of off-putting actually,” he informed him, glancing down the hallway and then turning back to face Gabe. “We’re making a move. Joe’s booked us a hotel somewhere just outside of Salt Lake City tonight and he wants to get there before it gets dark. We don’t know how bad the roads are going to be and I just wanted to say bye to Ryan before I left.” 

“Salt Lake City?” Gabe snorted. “What, are you both running off to join the Latter Day Saints?” 

“May _be_ , dude. If they’ll have us.” 

Gabe rolled his eyes and pushed the door back to let Jon into the room. He glanced around nervously as he stepped over the threshold and passed by Gabe. He’d rather Ryan came to the door, because it felt needlessly intimate entering Ryan’s hotel room, knowing he’d been fucked by one of his best friends just the night before. He’d rather Ryan be fully clothed when he said goodbye and not naked in bed and stinking of sex, but he stepped forward anyway and hovered by the bathroom door when he saw the edge of the bed, sheets bundled up at the foot of it, a couple of pillows scattered on the floor. 

Gabe disappeared and Jon could hear him saying, “Hey, you! Wakey _wakey_ \- cover yourself up. Jon’s here to say bye – he and Joe are headed back to Chicago.” Jon listened and heard Ryan stir from the bed, but he still held back in the hallway. This felt _way_ too weird. Gabe returned and looked pointedly over at him. “Chicago via _Utah_ , for some inexplicable reason.” 

“It’s nice out there,” Jon pointed out. He didn’t know why he felt he needed to make an excuse for their trip out to Utah, but Gabe had his arms folded and raised one unconvinced eyebrow his way. 

“Well, _that’s_ bullshit. I’ve been to Utah once and it was just a fucking lake and a big Mormon temple and snow and bigots out there.” 

Sometimes Gabe liked to push forward his opinions on certain things a little too much. Jon always thought it was best to just let people do whatever the fuck they wanted; so long as it wasn’t hurting anyone, so he just shrugged his shoulder and let out of small huff. “Alright, dude. Whatever. Still pissed that Joe and I said no to you tagging along on the drive back home?” 

“Fuck, no,” he cried, throwing his hands up. “Five days in a car with you two lovebirds? I’d rather die.”   

Jon laughed quietly and shook his head. That was surely a little dramatic. He shifted his weight from his right hip to his left and nodded a greeting over at Ryan when he appeared behind Gabe, yesterdays pants on, his shirt crinkled with the buttons done up wrong, his hair a just-fucked mess on top of his head. 

“Hey,” he smiled, rolling on his heels. “Joe and I are leaving, so… just wanted to bid you _adieu_ before we get going.” 

Ryan rubbed his fingers across his eyes and blinked against the light of the hotel room. Jon had to admit that it felt kind of strange – but only because Gabe knew that the two of them, plus Joe, had all fucked. He tried not to recreate the noises he’d heard last night in his head and Ryan gave a small nod of acknowledgement. He didn’t look like he’d had much sleep. Perhaps after the abrupt end to the sex that he and Joe had heard, Gabe had slowed it down a little – for both their sakes he hoped so. 

“Wow. Leaving already?” Ryan commented, sounding sleepy. 

“Yeah, well - Joe’s booked a hotel for the night up near Salt Lake. He’s worried about the drive up; there’ll be snow on the roads and so we’re thinking it’s probably a good idea we set off sooner, rather than later,” he explained, knowing full well he was babbling; just rehashing the exact same words he’d just told Gabe. 

Jon looked over at him, he was stood against the wall watching them, wearing nothing but his boxers and he looked kind of ridiculous. “D’you mind just… giving us five minutes?” he asked and Gabe rolled his eyes, but smiled and made an excuse that he needed a shower anyway - and then shot Ryan this big, over-exaggerated wink which made Ryan blush and effectively killed the conversation. 

When he heard water from the shower beating down on the bathroom wall, he turned back towards Ryan and felt a bit stupid for knocking on the door so early in the morning. He didn’t know what to say, so after another moment, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. 

“Good night last night?” he asked. He’d meant the wedding, but Ryan sat back down on the edge of the bed with a groan. 

“I’m sore,” he sighed, obviously looking for sympathy in the wrong place. 

“Well, that’s usually a sign of a good night,” he commented, biting the inside of his lip. Right then he thought about Joe’s dick in his ass, while Ryan fucked his throat and tried hard to push the image immediately to the back of his head. “So, as I said last night – you’re more than welcome to come visit us out in Chicago. Maybe during spring break or whenever – Joe and I can show you around the city. Maybe Gabe can even tag along too – kind of like a double date, if you want.” 

Ryan broke into one of his wide, dazzling smiles – they were always few and far between, but he laughed this time, genuinely and nodded his head. “Okay, I’ll hold you to that. Gabe actually already invited me out at spring break, but he was worried it might cause _tension_ between you and Joe.” Ryan used his fingers to put quotation marks around the word _tension,_ to signify that it was Gabe’s word and not his. 

Jon shrugged the comment off with a laugh and for the first time since Thanksgiving thought seriously about how he’d feel if Ryan and Gabe got together as an official couple. He’d known Gabe for years and he really liked Ryan, but as nothing more than a good friend. He’d enjoyed getting to know that man during his short stay in Las Vegas and he knew they’d stay in touch, regardless if anything came of his little fling with Gabe – so long as Ryan didn’t try and make any more moves on him, that is. So long as what he’d said at the wedding reception last night had been his legitimate feelings and not a bunch of lies to try and patch up their awkward friendship. 

He didn’t want to screw up his relationship with Ryan because he hadn’t been able to keep his dick in his pants during his birthday weekend. So long as Joe was cool with them conversing – which Jon knew he would be; this was Joe they were talking about, his unflappable boyfriend - he didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t hang out in Chicago together. 

Maybe Ryan and Gabe would hit it off after all. Maybe Ryan would be the one to tame Gabriel Saporta and his wild ways, because William had certainly failed at that – perhaps his friends would all settle down into convenient couples after all. He guessed he was a hopeless romantic at heart too, because he grew more excited at the prospect of Ryan and Gabe getting together than he did at the gossip of them casually hooking up. 

Stood in Ryan’s hotel room that morning, Jon thought back to how the seeds of his relationship with Joe had first been planted. He’d been so determined not to admit his feelings that he wound up in a terrible mess out in Las Vegas – but it had been an experience. He loved Joe and the way he legitimately made him feel so indispensible and he wanted them to make a life together, to create memories and support each other through the tough times – all the shit that Spencer and Haley had promised each other yesterday in front of their family and friends, Jon wanted to do for Joe.   

“I’m going to miss you, Jon,” Ryan told him, standing up from the bed awkwardly. “It’s back to square one for me – miserably single Ryan Ross. There’s Brendon and Sarah; Spencer and Haley – you and _Joe_ ; all wonderful couples. Sarah’s annoyingly nice, so I can’t even hate on her anymore.” 

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Jon teased. “You’ll find someone. I sure wasn’t expecting to find Joe so soon after my ex and I…” He paused. _After he did me that huge fucking favor and left me for another man._ “After we broke up, but I guess all that shit happened for a reason. I met Joe. I met _you –_ and you met Gabe,” he finished with a hopeful intonation, smiling over at him. “I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing yet.” 

Ryan laughed and pushed his hands through his messy bangs. He didn’t say anything, but he took one cautious step forward and Jon had been certain for a quick second that Ryan was going to try and kiss him, so he stepped back and looked towards the door. “I should go. We need to hit the road if we want to get to this hotel before it gets dark.” 

Ryan gave one slow nod of his head and then licked his lip. “Take care,” he said, following Jon towards the door. “Drive safe.” They both lingered, before Ryan’s fingers closed around the door handle - and Jon could feel tension between them as Ryan raised his hand and picked a bit of lint off the shoulder of Jon’s t-shirt. “You know, you and Joe always have a place to stay out here. Now Spencer’s moved in with Haley and Brendon’s planning on marrying his girlfriend, I’ll be knocking around that big old house on my own. I’m genuinely happy for you two though,” he said with a straight expression that didn’t _look_ genuinely happy, but Jon still couldn’t battle the grin off his face and when he looked down at the floor, he felt Ryan step against him. He stiffened at first, awkward as Ryan’s arms closed around him, but after a few seconds, he raised his hands and rubbed at his back. Ryan was all bones. 

It wasn’t particularly _awkward_ , it was friendly; the way he’d have hugged Brendon or Spencer, but when Jon tried to pull away after a moment, Ryan pulled him back against him, tightening his embrace – and then one of Ryan’s hands was travelling up to the nape of his neck and into his hair – a move that always made Jon shiver when Joe did it. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the moment to pass, hoping – really praying, that he wouldn’t have to push Ryan away against the opposite wall. 

When he felt Ryan’s face turn in against the side of his ear, his muscles tightened and he dropped his arms back down to his side. “Ryan,” he tried, pushing him back by his hips. “Let’s not.” 

When Ryan stepped back, he looked kind of dazed. Jon huffed and straightened out his t-shirt as Ryan apologized and then pushed the heels of his palms into his face before shaking the tension out of his body. 

“Say goodbye to Joe for me,” he said and with that his hand closed around the door handle and he pulled it open. Jon stepped out of the room and gave a nod and he didn’t know what else to say after that awkward hug, so he punched Ryan gently in his shoulder and told him to make sure Gabe didn’t get into too much trouble. 

With a few more awkward goodbyes, Jon pushed his feet along the hotel corridor and when he met Joe checking out at the reception desk, he pulled him in for a hug and mumbled into the side of his neck, “I want to go home.” 

“We’re on our way, sweetie.” _Sweetie_ – that was a new one. Jon knew right then that the long roads back to Chicago wouldn’t be without their twists and bumps, but he was prepared this time. 

Jon and Joe – so long as they had each other, they were invincible.

 

* * *

 

The dinner that evening had been exquisite and all Jon could think about as he watched Joe talk in the dim lighting of the restaurant was how much he loved him and how he never felt like he had enough words to describe how he made him feel. 

He couldn’t wait to get back to Chicago and start their life together; to settle down as a couple into the comfortable lifestyle he’d been dreaming about since his move out to Las Vegas. In the back of his mind he was worried about finding another job. He’d briefly looked at the classifieds back in Chicago before they’d left for Spencer’s wedding. 

Ironically, almost a year after dismissing him for that video, his old school were looking for another science teacher, but he tried not to let the job search worry him too much and he didn’t want it to ruin their road trip back to Illinois, so he decided to take a leaf out of Joe’s book. _Let the chips fall as they may,_ he told himself. _Whatever will be, will be –_ and a dozen other tired clichés, as they’d driven across the boarder into Utah. 

The two of them had spent the majority of the day laying on the California king mattress together, in front of the fire, planning their route home – their quickest way back to Chicago was now covered in snow and Jon had promised his mother they’d be home in time for Christmas day, which was a mere five days away, so tomorrow, Joe claimed, they would drive up through Wyoming and down into Denver, which was where they’d spend tomorrow night and from there, they’d drive the five hundred mile journey to Wichita, with hopes of arriving in Springfield, Illinois by the 23rd. His father was expecting them; he was interested to hear Jon’s news and had offered both of them his spare bedroom for the night when they’d talked on the phone. He’d never suggested the same thing for him and Patrick and so Jon thanked his dad and accepted the offer. 

If things went to plan, they’d be rolling into Chicago on Christmas Eve and Jon was already prepared for a nightmare Christmas dinner with his mom – after such a long and tiring trip, he knew he’d want to sit back at relax with Joe. The only thing against them was the threat of bad weather, but Joe had continually been checking the forecast on his phone and giving him by-the-hour updates on the snow in Colorado and the ice in Kansas – their journey had been hell of a lot easier in the summer, but the snowy roads set the reality that he was going home. 

Still – if the worst came to the worst, his mother would forgive them for holing up in a town somewhere along the way for Christmas day – she certainly wouldn’t want them to drive on dangerous roads. 

After dinner, Joe had pulled him out onto the heated terrace which overlooked the snow-covered mountains and they’d sat there together, done up in winter jackets, smoking cigarettes until Jon’s fingers turned numb and Joe clasped his hands between his and rubbed some warmth back into them. 

It wasn’t snowing anymore, but it had been throughout the early evening – the ground was fresh with crisp, undisturbed snow, which was blue in the light of the moon and fir trees shadowed the horizon – the moon huge and glowing up in the velvet night sky. It truly was romantic. Jon had needed all sorts of help from Ryan when he’d tried to plan Joe’s birthday surprise, but Joe had planned all this out on his own. It made him love the man even more. 

There were numerous skiers and wealthy holidaymakers sat out on the terrace, all enjoying mulled wine and glasses of whiskey as Christmas carols played in the background over the speakers. Jon felt himself get into the holiday spirit as he leant his head back on Joe’s shoulder and let his eyes take in the view. After a few minutes of neither of them saying anything of much importance, Joe turned and pressed his warm lips against Jon’s cold ear. 

“There’s a small outlook about five miles up the road – why don’t we drive up there? It’s meant to be a killer view.” 

“I don’t know what could possibly be more beautiful than this,” he said. The atmosphere was just perfect, the warmth of the fire against the soles of Jon’s boots, Joe’s fingers rubbing over his knuckles as they sat together and admired the mountains. 

“The stars,” Joe enthused, squeezing at his hand. “Come _on_ ,” he cajoled, “let’s get away from these fucking squares.” Joe nodded his head over at the small groups of snooty hotel guests – the majority of them in their late fifties, soccer moms with rich husbands, all quaffing expensive champagne around the fire. “They’re cramping my style, dude.” 

Jon laughed. “Alright, but _I’m_ driving,” he told Joe, pushing up from the seat and holding his hands out in front of the fire for a quick moment. Joe had been all over the place on his way up the mountain and Jon had to bite his lip and stop himself from reaching out to grab the steering wheel as they slid around on the icy roads. 

Joe stood and stretched, his hair hidden under a grey beanie, his coat zipped up all the way to his chin and he held his hand out for Jon to take as they walked along the deck, towards the undercover parking lot. 

When they climbed into the car and turned on the heating, Joe reached his hand around the back of Jon’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. Jon had wanted it to last longer, but it was fleeting – Joe probably knew exactly what he was doing, because it left Jon wanting so much more, but no sooner had their lips connected, than Joe was pulling away and impatiently ordering Jon to pull out of his parking space. 

It was bitterly cold. Jon didn’t know why people bothered going skiing; it certainly wasn’t his idea of a fun time. It seemed like a fucking miserable affair. He could understand people coming up here for the view, for the beautiful hotel and the Christmassy atmosphere, because there was no disputing the atmosphere, but Jon was more than happy to sit in the bar and sip on an expensive glass of scotch or out on the deck in front of the fire with Joe, their hands linked where no one could see. Last night in bed though, Joe had asked him to indulge his romantic streak and so if stargazing was what Joe wanted, Jon was prepared to brave the temperatures and give it to him, but after a few minutes on the road, as he struggled not to slide on hard packed snow, Jon pointed out that they were risking their lives and that Joe better have a good excuse for making him drive all the way up the mountain, when they could be making love in front of the fire in their hotel room – though Jon hadn’t used the phrase _making love._  

“Where’s your sense of adventure, hmm? I thought you were the kind of guy who wanted to live life to the fullest possible degree; are these your true colors shining through?” he teased, digging his finger into Jon’s ribs. “Are you going to go all high school science teacher on me now that we’re moving in together? Cardigans and early nights? _Fuck_ ,” Joe breathed and it actually sounded like he was considering that could be a reality for the first time. 

They drove for ten minutes, until Joe pointed off to the side of the road, towards a small clearing that overlooked the top of the grand, sprawling hotel. It looked like the place out of _The Shining,_ Jon noted to himself, but Joe had been correct – he’d obviously done his research, because they had a much better view from up here. 

The night sky was clear and still, and removed from the bustle of the hotel it was very romantic. They sat together in the car with the heating on and the engine running and they shared two cigarettes before Joe tipped his head to the side and opened his passenger side door. 

“Come on,” he said, standing outside the car, with his hand holding the door open. The frigid air whipped straight to Jon’s bones – it was way below freezing; a lot colder than he’d been used to back in Chicago even and Jon wrapped his coat tighter around his body as he felt his chest tighten with the pain of the cold. 

“Joe, it’s _freezing._ We don’t have to get out of the car,” he called in frustration as he watched Joe trample towards the trunk of the car and pull out Jon’s old winter sleeping bag - which hadn’t moved since their journey out to Nevada six months ago. “Get back in the car, _right_ now, dude,” he told him – and there was a certain firmness in his voice that he’d only acquired from being a long-suffering teacher. He cringed when he heard it. 

Joe was already draping the sleeping bag over the hood of the car, climbing up onto it and peering through the windshield at Jon. 

“Come _on_ ,” he shouted, patting the space next to him on the hood. “The engines still warm.” Joe lay back with his hands behind his head and waited until Jon unbuckled his seatbelt and braced himself against the Utahan winter winds. 

The cold had got right into his veins by the time he climbed on top of the hood next to Joe, throwing the thick sleeping bag over the two of them and nestling down into the crook of his arm. 

“I wish we had some weed,” Joe noted after a couple of minutes. So did Jon. Weed was perfect for nights like this – way up above the world, enjoying the beauty of nature. The heat from the engine was warming his ass nicely and Joe’s body and the winter sleeping bag over the top of them were all doing a good job at keeping the blood pumping through his system. When they started to freeze would be time to call it a night, but right at that moment, Joe’s arm around his shoulder, his head pressed against his partner’s chest, he was actually enjoying himself. 

He was happy and reasonably warm, considering the arctic temperature and there wasn’t a hope of getting stoned until they got back to Chicago and hit up Travis, but he didn’t care. Joe’s fingers were brushing through his hair and all he could hear was the silence of nature and the low carols from the hotel speakers, drifting up the side of the mountain. It was beautiful and incredibly tranquil and he let loose a satisfied sigh as he rubbed Joe’s belly under his coat. 

The sky looked like a huge velvet blanket above them, the stars shining through like bullet holes and Jon blinked up at the night – at the moon and the millions of stars. 

“It’d be great to take acid up here,” he noted and Joe hummed quietly in agreement. Last time he’d taken acid, he’d woken up in bed with Ryan Ross – fully clothed, but nonetheless, they were still in bed together. Ryan had tried to jerk him off and he should have in no way encouraged him by flirting with the guy during the weeks that followed, but such is life, he thought to himself with a sigh. He didn’t have to see Ryan anymore – they were going to be two thousand miles away from each other and it was hard to sustain a crush from the other side of the country. 

“You see up there, the Big Dipper,” Joe raised his arm and pointed at a constellation in the sky, “and the bright one above it is Polaris.” Jon hummed, vaguely impressed with Joe’s knowledge of the stars. He nestled deeper into his chest. He could feel Joe’s slow, steady heartbeat and felt himself relaxing. He could’ve fallen asleep if Joe had managed to stay quiet for long enough. “And right there,” Joe told him, moving his had across the sky and pointing to another cluster of stars, “that’s the Bear – and right above the Bear, those ones right up ahead; that’s the, uh – that’s the Fox and to the left, the one that looks kind of red - that’s the Chicken’s Foot, 

“Well, now I _know_ you’re bullshitting,” Jon laughed, rubbing his hand from Joe’s stomach, up to his chest and over his heart. “You almost had me impressed at the Big Dipper, but I don’t think you know shit about astronomy, do you?” 

Joe laughed, tightening his grip around Jon’s shoulders and he pressed his lips down onto the top of his head. “Nah - only when I’m trying to impress _you_. Though, hey. If you look really closely, you can see Uranus from here.”  

Jon slapped his chest, turning his face against Joe and laughed until his chest tightened. “You wish,” he grinned, sighing heavily as they gazed at the stars. He was glad he was returning home with Joe. He didn’t for the life of him know what he’d been thinking trying to stay out in Las Vegas until _March_ – he had a man who loved him, someone funny and kind and romantic – a hot, sexy boyfriend who had a beautiful, big dick and was incredible in bed. Joe made him feel good about the future – he didn’t care what happened, so long as they were together – a job wasn’t the most important thing in the world and money wasn’t the be all and end all. _Take care of the pennies and the dollars look after themselves,_ his father used to tell him when he was a frivolous kid spending money on cheap booze and lousy marijuana. 

On the hood of the car, nestled into Joe’s chest, Jon’s eyes started to close – the night was so peaceful and so perfect that he could feel himself falling asleep. 

“Fuck it,” Joe said suddenly, pulling Jon back from sleep abruptly, shifting off the hood of the car and sliding his feet to the tight-packed snow underneath them. “I _was_ going to wait until Christmas, but this opportunity is just way too good to let it go to waste. Close your eyes,” he said and Jon, barely let his eyelids slide close as he heard his car door open. He could still see the lights of the hotel and when he heard Joe step back around to the hood of the car, he opened one eye and glanced over at him. “Close your goddamn eyes, dude. _God_.” 

“Last time you surprised me like this, you presented me with those metal anal beads,” he commented, his arm flung over his eyes, blocking out any stray fragments of light. “And I love you and all, Joe, but not right here - this is neither the time nor the place to try to seduce me like that,” he teased. 

“Shut up.” Jon could almost hear the smile on Joe’s voice and he sighed. He hated surprises; he was the kind of guy who liked to be kept in the know about what was going on, but it seemed that Joe always did a pretty good job at surprising him. He’d had no idea he’d booked a night at a five-star hotel until they made a turn at an intersection instead of carrying on to Salt Lake City and even then, he’d had no idea at the grandeur of the place until they pulled up outside. 

He’d surprised him by buying that one-way plane ticket for his birthday; a plane ticket that he should have gladly accepted, considering the return he’d bought himself a few weeks later had gone to waste after the arrival of Joe’s drunk dad. 

“Alright,” Joe said. “You can open your eyes now.” 

Jon lifted his arm and opened one eye, peering at Joe stood in front of him at the hood of his car. The snowy mountain backdrop framed him quite nicely and Jon opened his other eye and quirked his eyebrow over at Joe expectantly. 

“So,” Joe started, his hands awkward and empty by his sides. “I bought you something and it’s something I really want you to accept, but if you don’t, I’ll totally understand – I mean, I guess it’s pretty _gay_ and I don’t know if you’re down with it, but Jon, I fucking love you so much.” Jon furrowed his brows and stayed quiet enough to let Joe continue. “I’ve never had anything good in my life. I mean, I have my friends and my house and my job, but I never felt like those things completed me and then – when you and Patrick broke up, I swear, I never planned on this, but the longer we spent together the more I realized how fucking _perfect_ you are for me. I fell in love with you so hard – and you’ve been the one constant in my life; the one good, steady person who I’ve realized I don’t want to live without.” Joe’s teeth were chattering. 

“Where’s all this going, Joe?” he asked, with a chuckle. “Sounds like you’re about to propose to me or something.” 

And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the realization hit him like a bolt of lightening to the chest. His heart picked up, beating hard behind his ribs and he sat up on the hood of his car and watched as Joe rolled his eyes and dug his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Jon swallowed the lump in his throat. When Joe pulled his hand from the depths of his pocket, his fingers were wrapped around a small, navy blue box and Jon wanted to upturn his palm and slap himself hard in the face. He looked back up at Joe with his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

Joe exhaled heavily, his breath fogging out from between his lips and took a step closer to Jon. They were touching now, Joe’s thighs against Jon’s knees as he sat on the edge of the car bonnet. He could feel his stomach contracting and twisting and flipping inside him and right then, he’d never been more sure of anything else in his entire life. 

 _He wanted to spend forever with Joe._  

“You don’t even have to accept it. I mean, not if it’s too much, but I’m just absolutely fucking crazy about you, baby and I can’t imagine ever being without you – not now, not after what we’ve both been through.” 

Then, in an admittedly cautious gesture, Joe pressed the small, blue box into Jon’s lap and they both looked down at it until Jon’s fingers closed around it. 

“I’m sorry I can’t get down on one knee, but it’s so fucking cold,” Joe shivered. “I fucking love you Jon Walker. I want to be with you – you know, _‘til death do us part_ , all that shit.” He finished with a nervous laugh and Jon fumbled the box open with numb fingers. 

Inside was a simple, silver band and Jon blinked down at it in the darkness. Inside his head, his thoughts were calm and collected, but his heart was beating hard in his chest and he licked his lips before glancing back up at Joe. He already knew he was going to accept it, but he was a little confused about what it meant to Joe.  

“So… what does this mean; do you want us to get _married_.” He span the silver band around in its slot. 

Joe shrugged and then took a deep breath. “If you want. For me, it was more just a promise that we’ll stick by each other. If one day we decide to go off to California or pop over to Iowa or if Illinois legalizes it or whatever, then cool, but really – I just want it to mean that we’re in this for the long-term. You don’t even have to wear it on your ring finger, dude – not if you don’t want to and you can totally take it to mean whatever you want and if you really don’t like it, I can take it back to the store and-” 

Jon hushed him, pressing his finger against Joe’s lips and pulling him closer into his body with his legs wrapped around him. 

“You talk too much,” he smiled, pulling Joe down for a kiss. “You’ve rendered me speechless. This is fucking _crazy_ ,” he said, drawing back to look at the ring, glinting in the moonlight. He pushed the box back into Joe’s open hand and looked up at him. The night air was getting into his bones again. “Aren’t you meant to put this on my finger yourself?” he coaxed and Joe’s tense expression broke into a smile as he fumbled the ring out of its box and held it between his thumb and index finger. He took Jon’s left hand in his and rubbed at his knuckles. 

“I thought you were going to say no. You had me worried for a second," he laughed softly. "All this is for you - every single second of it. Jon, you are by far, the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I never thought I’d go for it either – all _this_ ,” he said splaying his hands and looking around, “but since we got together, the only thing I want to do is make you happy and I already figured it out months ago - that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. You stayed with me – after my dad showed up, you stuck up for me in front of him and baby, that means the _world_ to me.” Joe was holding the band at the tip of Jon’s ring finger, looking down at him with wide, blue eyes. 

Jon had never been more sure of an answer in his life before. He’d never been more eager to stick by a man and tie their lives together than he was right there – on top of a snow-covered mountain in northern Utah. 

“Fuck, Joe,” Jon breathed. He could feel the silver, cold against his skin, Joe’s warm hand around his and suddenly he had to blink back tears as the emotions threatened to creep up his throat and out of his mouth. “You’re going to be my life partner?” he smiled, but it was too late – the tears were already spilling over his eyes as he watched Joe nod and then looked down to where their hands were linked. Joe’s mouth broke into a smile as he pushed the band down Jon’s finger with a nervous chuckle. “Joe,” Jon laughed, leaning his head forward into the warmth of Joe’s chest and twisting the ring around his finger. It felt alien, but he closed his eyes when he felt Joe’s lips kiss the top of his head and his arms wrap tightly around him. “I’m totally speechless,” he smiled, his grin wide enough that it hurt his cheeks. 

“But in a good way, right?” Joe whispered against his ear and trailed hot kisses across his cheek towards his lips. Jon opened his mouth and smiled against Joe’s lips. 

“Yes, in a good way! Fuck, Joe – does this mean I’m a kept man now?” he asked, looking down at the ring in disbelief. When he’d woken up next to Joe that morning, he’d never pictured the day ending like this – way up high on a mountain in Utah, with Joe asking for lifelong commitment.   

Joe laughed, pulling him back into his chest. “It does indeed,” he grinned. “You had me going for a while though. For a second there, I thought you were going to get into your car and drive back down the mountain without me.” 

Jon shook his head and closed his eyes as he raised his face to kiss Joe’s lips. They opened against him quickly, Joe’s tongue slipping purposefully into his mouth and he raised his left hand to palm at Joe’s cheek. 

“You’re freezing,” Joe hissed, pulling back. “Let’s get back to the room; take a bath, get warmed up.” Joe’s fingers linked with Jon’s as he slid off the hood of the car and they pressed against each other for one more lingering, slow kiss. 

Back in the hotel room, the fire was already lit and the bed turned down and on the square coffee table in the middle of the longue-area was a bottle of champagne on ice, two glasses and a folded rectangle of card, the words neatly printed on the inside.

 

_Congratulations  
Jon  & Joe!_

_From the staff at  
The St. Regis at Deer Valley, UT._

Jon laughed as he read over the card and pulled Joe into him by the collar of his jacket. They sat down heavily on the couch together and Jon rested his head contentedly on Joe’s shoulder. 

“I thought you said you wanted to wait until Christmas,” Jon smiled, twisting one of Joe’s curls around his finger. “You planned all this for tonight, didn’t you? That’s why you were so eager to leave Las Vegas.” 

Jon raised his head to see Joe nod, the blush rising high on his cheeks. “Ever since your birthday - after you told me you weren’t going to stay after Thanksgiving. I knew I needed to up my ante, but I guess my dad showing up worked in my favor for once.” 

He smiled and shifted himself up to straddle Joe’s lap, letting his numb fingertips fumble open the buttons on Joe’s shirt as he started to grind down onto the man beneath him, his breath hitching in his chest, his erection growing inside his pants. 

“I’ve never been happier than I am right now, Mr. Trohman,” Jon smiled and he looped his arms around Joe’s neck, pressing their lips together as Joe’s hand pushed along the nape of his neck. 

Jon shivered and the fire crackled.

 

 

 

 

**THE END.**


End file.
